


The Blood's Iron Will

by DasewigGewitter



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop
Genre: F/F, F/M, Internal Conflict, Kaeleer, M/M, Romance, Terreille, Witch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 77,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28690326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasewigGewitter/pseuds/DasewigGewitter
Summary: Set approximately 600 years after the end of the last vignette in Bishop's last book in the series, Twilight's Dawn, exploring what became of the territory of Hayll. Largely sticks to canon, but some AU elements. Note: I am ignoring anything written in Bishop's books after Twilight's Dawn because they are just terrible.  Anyway, I've been working on this project off and on since 2013.  New chapters are somewhat on the back-burner while I make revisions to the early ones.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. The Never Forgotten Dream

**Arachnia**

Weaving a web of dreams was an art. Listening to the dreams as music- melodies flow and blend with harmonies. The Arachnian Queens wove them together into a song that became a Dream. Some came once and never again. Others repeated themselves in a familiar refrain. And some...some songs were never forgotten. 

Weaver listened to the web before her and closed her eyes. A very old song in this web. She listened awhile longer until she was sure. No. This couldn’t be. The web she saw forming in the threads terrified her; it stirred a memory. 

The history of the very first Dream was passed down from Queen to Queen of the Arachnians. It took place after a troubled time when the Blood were just beginning to grow strong enough to rule the Realms. Her task ended, Witch came to the Arachnians to speak with their Queen.

_“Why- why did you make me this? What purpose was great enough for me to be the way I am? No one deserves to live this way.”_

_*The Dreamers shape the Dream. You knew that when you were made*_

_“Well, apparently they weren’t so pleased with the result. Look at what they did to me!”_

_*You were warned about the Court, Lady. And about the Consort. It was the price of wielding the power given to you*_

_“Everything has a price,” Witch replied bitterly. “And the price of being me is that I’m not allowed to have the things normal people want. Why allow me to want them in the first place, then?”_

_*It couldn’t be done, Lady*_

_Witch leveled a severe look at the Arachnian Queen. “I won’t do this again.”_

_*But the Dreamers!*_

_“Find some other way. Change the threads if you must. But I expect that this Dream- my Dream- will never be woven again.”_

_*Can weave other Dreams- may not be what is needed*_

_“It will have to be enough.”_

_*Your strength is necessary*_

_“I won’t allow this to happen again. If you bring me back this way again, I will stop you.”_

So much pain in that memory. Weaver wouldn’t think of the reason why. Too much pain there. Too much rage. But she did remember what happened next.

_*Will be needed again someday*_

_“No- never.”_

_*Lady, if there is no other choice*_

Witch considered the plea of the Arachnian Queen for a moment. _“Only if there is no other choice. And never again as one of the long lived races. Once is quite enough.”_

_*Maybe no choice...* The Arachnian Queen hedged._

_“If I’m brought back in this form as one of the long-lived races, I promise that I will come hunting in Arachnia. And if I don’t hear an explanation to satisfy me, there will be nothing left of this place. Not a single stone.”_

_*Understand- not unless there is no other choice*_

But the Weavers in those days hadn’t understood. Or they forgot. They wove the web again, and the Dream failed. Weaver shivered at that memory. Fortunate that it hadn’t been worse. It hadn’t been among the long-lived races, and so Arachnia was spared. After that, the Arachnian Queens were very careful when weaving the web of Witch. Twice before they changed the web before it was too late. The last time was not long ago- the web of Kaeleer’s Heart. Weaver examined this web again. Too late. Too late to change this web to become another Dream.

She could not let this web take its final shape. Could not let the Dream fail again. She needed advice. Her Self traveled beyond the place where her body was- into the Abyss. For a few moments, she floated there and waited for the Lady that was the Song in the Darkness to find her. Finally, she felt the Song answer.

_*Sister, what brings you here?*_

*A web*

_*Surely you have plenty of those*_ Amusement darted in and around the words.

*Not like this- was told never to weave _this_ web again*

The amusement vanished. _*It must be done*_

*But what about...*

_*Weaver*_ The voice was gentle but resolute. _*It must be done*_

Weaver was thoughtful. *The web cannot become flesh. Threads are still missing. Missing for very long time. Perhaps...*

_*The final Dreamer is coming. He will complete the web*_

Weaver thought of the web. She knew the shape the Dream would take- Witch would be of the long lived races. Weaver remembered the promise Witch made.

*She will be angry*

_*She is what Terreille needs*_

Weaver bowed her head and trembled. Yes, they needed Witch to be strong to deal with Terreille. But would the Blood be strong enough to deal with Witch? No choice.

*I will weave the web*


	2. Ill-Timed Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although Jaenelle Angelline successfully purged Terreille of Hekatah and Dorothea, Hayll did not heal as the Blood had hoped. With the rise of Queen Meredith and her Black Widow advisor, Valinna, they've almost completely recreated what had been thought to be wiped out nearly a millennia ago. It's into that hell that Alex has been cast, using whatever tools he has to survive the brutality of their oppressive regime.
> 
> Tonight will see a shift in his life trajectory. He'll hear of some mysterious goings on in the hall from a pair of witches that serve as housekeeping staff. And although the encounter doesn't quite go so well for any of them, it will give Alex something to think about. That's when he'll cross paths with Lilith. Her battle with Meredith's pet Warlord, Grael, will prompt him with still more questions. Doubtful that Grael will like what comes of his answers.
> 
> As for Lilith, she's a woman on a mission. Just what the mission is, however, remains to be seen. She's not about to let Grael get the best of her, though. Of course, her plans are thrown for a bit of a loop when Alex shows up. And despite her best efforts to steer clear of the Prince, it would seem he's got different ideas.

**1/Terreille**

Alex mused about the strangeness of the evening as he was on his way back to his suite. He should have been on his way to Lady Bethaeny’s suite, but there had been a change of plans. Lady bitch and all of the others were cloistered in the Queen bitch’s suite tonight. He hadn’t heard the details, but someone had made a big mistake. He wondered who.

Lucky for him- one less night wasted on the bitches. Alexander DeSade was a Warlord Prince, for all the good that did him in Draega. For most males, very little made any difference in how they were treated. Life was miserable regardless of caste or Jewel rank. Miserable and short for anyone who got in Queen Meredith’s way. Alex had only survived as long as he had because she considered him her greatest prize.

He supposed that he was. Being Hayllian, he’d inherited the golden eyes, raven hair and browned skin of that race. Every male in Meredith’s court had that in common. But where they were handsome at best, Alex possessed a cold beauty that left women breathless. They were half-seduced even before he made a move or said a word. If he didn’t keep the sexual pull natural to Warlord Princes leashed, he could seduce anyone he wanted- _anyone_. They were all drawn to him like moths to flame.

Extraordinary looks made a compelling case to set him apart from the rest of the Hayllian Blood; his Jewels reinforced that impression. 

Darker than any others he’d seen in all of Draega- darker than even Meredith’s. And that was before taking into consideration the ones he’d hidden from her. Alex never knew why he’d been gifted both the Red and the Ebon-gray at his Birthright ceremony, but even at that early age, he’d seen the wisdom in hiding the latter to only claim the Red to the bitch Queen. When he’d received another set of Jewels during his Offering, Alex chosen not to claim any of them at all, opting to reveal the Ebon-gray instead. The others he’d vanished and kept secret, hoping that someday he’d find a way to use them to break free of her control.

That had been well over three hundred years ago, and Alex had almost given up that he would ever see a day of freedom. Meredith and her coven bitches had torn that hope out of him a piece at a time. That and just about anything else that may have been human once. Six hundred soul-killing years of torture and abuse would do that to anyone. In his case, it had honed him into a beautiful and deadly predator that struck the unwary without mercy.

He wondered if Meredith ever wished she’d played her games a little more cautiously. She hadn’t dared let any of her closest coven darlings use him in well over a century. A vicious smile lit his face as he remembered the last one who’d dared try it. That bitch had been a lesson to Meredith that she may have ringed him and caged him in her court, but he was far from under her control. 

“I’m telling you, I saw it with my own eyes.”

“But why?”

“No idea- just glad it wasn’t me.”

Alex watched two servants pass him on their way to their wing of the mansion. They didn’t notice him, which wasn’t a surprise. He was sight-shielded, ensuring that he wouldn’t attract any attention. As far as witches went, he tolerated the servants more than any of the aristo bitches. Unless any of them did anything to deserve pain, he left them alone. Most of them did likewise, too afraid of what might happen if they tried to offer him anything more than polite distance. 

He listened as these two continued to gossip, presumably about whomever had made the mistake of crossing Meredith.

“But she didn’t do anything.”

“Since when does that matter to any of _them_?”

“I know, I know,” the one witch sighed. “But when it’s something like this, it’s never over nothing.”

“I heard there was some commotion about a few of the warlords earlier who attacked one of the Ladies. Something to do with a Ring that wasn’t working. You should have heard all the screaming she did when they got their hands on her. Maybe it has something to do with that.”

Interesting. Alex continued to follow them at a distance while they talked. When he’d been dismissed earlier, his intention had been to seek refuge in his suite for the evening, but now he was too intrigued by whatever had gone on today. Meredith had kept him close all afternoon and evening, so he’d heard nothing about whatever happened with the warlords. No doubt she’d done that intentionally.

“Kareal, how could she have had anything to do with that?”

“You heard her last week. She said…”

“Shhhhh…don’t even say it. You never know where one of them could be.”

“What is the worst that could happen?”

“Grael gets three witches instead of one. That’s what.”

Grael. Alex despised the Warlord, but left him alive because he was a useful tool. Meredith considered him one of her pets, so witches who disappointed her were passed onto him. And in Alex’s experience, most of those witches deserved a night with Grael. All bitches who only thought of themselves and their cruel games. He felt no loss in seeing them broken or worse the next day.

But every so often, Meredith turned him loose on one of the maids or some witch who’d done nothing other than get in her way. Alex felt a twinge of remorse when he did nothing to stop him those times. He’d told himself that he didn’t get involved because Meredith would use it as a justification to make him suffer. Why allow her to torture him when all he’d accomplish was a delay of the inevitable? Nothing more than a pointless gesture. If Grael didn’t have the witch, Meredith would find some other way of punishing her.

So who had been sent to Grael tonight- coven bitch or a member of the staff? Judging by the conversation between Kareal and the other witch, he guessed it wasn’t one of the former.

“You don’t suppose he’s going to do it in the servant’s wing, do you Fawne?”

“Why?”

“I don’t think I can go back there tonight if he’s…I just can’t listen to another one. He broke Lisbeth just the other day- and that was just because he wanted to.”

Alex was beginning to suspect that more witches than he thought ended up in Grael’s clutches. Maybe he’d outlived his usefulness and it was time the Warlord had an unfortunate ‘accident’. Meredith might even suspect that her coven did it, in retaliation for the warlords’ attack on one of them.

“Where do you plan on going instead, then?”

“Isn’t there any place to hide?”

“Not likely, unless you’d rather take your chances with one of the other warlords.”

“I’m not going to bed one of them just to avoid Grael. They might not break you on purpose, but they enjoy getting away with doing things the aristos would punish them for.”

“Some of them aren’t so bad, Kareal.”

“Name one.”

“Paeter isn’t like that.”

“How would you know?”

Fawne hesitated, and Alex saw her blush in the dim hallway lighting. The other witch must have seen it, too.

“You’re lovers, aren’t you?”

“Only for a few weeks. It’s not easy because he’s one of Kaeremi’s favorites. But we make things work with what little time he has.”

Her speech caught Alex by surprise. He knew of the Warlord they were discussing, although not very well. Paeter was one of the mid-level pleasure slaves. Their paths had crossed a handful of times since his arrival nearly two decades ago. And while he wasn’t actively hostile towards the witches, Paeter had seen his share of misery from the bitch Queen and her coven. How he could turn around and call _any_ witch his lover after that was something Alex couldn’t reconcile.

Nor was it a topic he could bring up with the other pleasure slaves in the hall. They might talk about it amongst themselves quietly, but not around him. Or anything else, for that matter. Alex was too _different_ from them to share any sort of confidences. While his temperament, status and Jewels guaranteed that the coven bitches feared him, it also cut him off from anyone of his own gender. Most times, he preferred the isolation, but it was moments like this when he wondered what he was missing.

While he’d been thinking, Kareal was obviously having second thoughts about her earlier comment. She dithered for a moment or two before finally asking, “Would he…know of anyone else who might be of a similar mind?”

“I dunno. He might.”

“Then I’m thinking maybe I ought to risk it. I don’t want to chance running into Grael. He’s the most cold-hearted bastard in Draega.”

“I could think of worse,” Fawne replied.

“ _No_ _one_ is worse than Grael.”

“You’re forgetting the Prince.” Although Draega didn’t have many Princes left- and almost no Warlord Princes at all- witches only meant one person when using _that_ particular tone in their voice. They always meant him. Alex knew he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear next. “I’ve heard what _he’s_ done to witches. Even if they control the Ring.”

Kareal shivered and closed her eyes.

“Don’t, Fawne. I don’t want to hear.”

“Nothing left of the last one- spattered all over the room, I heard.”

“But…but he only goes after the aristos. I’ve never heard any stories about him and the likes of us.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not possible. He could make anyone disappear if he wanted to and what would the aristos care? One less witch to wash and fold linens.”

“I…I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

Well, that told him what the Blood thought of him, didn’t it? Even though he’d _never_ done anything to Fawne or Kareal, they thought he was a monster worse than Grael. No doubt all of the staff in the hall thought the same. That’s what Meredith and her coven had turned him into- all he’d ever be to them. A chill permeated the corridor, mirroring the rage that swept through him. Alex slipped his hands in his pockets and dropped the sight shield.

“If you were really that afraid, you’d be more careful about what you say in open hallways,” he crooned at them.

Both witches whirled around, horrified that he’d appeared seemingly out of nowhere to overhear their conversation. They froze, unable to move when he turned his cold, golden gaze on them.

“It just so happens I have nothing to do tonight. Perhaps you would like me to find something to fill the hours until morning. After all, weren’t you just saying that you wanted to find a place Grael wouldn’t look for you?” After an enigmatic pause he added, “I can find a place like that.”

Fawne found her voice first, but it wobbled as she spoke.

“N-no, Prince. No need t-to bother with us.”

“Hmmm…I’m not sure I’m convinced.”

Alex glided nearer to them, standing close enough that the hair on the back of Fawne’s neck teased her skin when he breathed. She shivered in fear, and he smiled to himself while eyeing Kareal. She was shaking all over, hands clutching her skirts. He could let a sensual wave wash over both of them and they’d both be his. Alex thought of the games he could play with them- something to justify the stories the Blood were telling of him. 

It would be all too easy to let himself go and follow that violent dance. Something in him resisted, knowing that doing so would kill what little honor remained in him. Did he care? As Alex hovered on the decision, a shout at the other end of the corridor snapped him to reality. He pulled himself back from the edge. _Control. Focus._ Leash the rage before it was too late. Turning towards the sounds, he stepped away from the witches. They scurried off the minute his back was turned. Alex hoped he never laid eyes on them again.

For now, he decided to pay a visit on the much talked of Grael. No doubt he was behind those shouts Alex was hearing. He and the witch Meredith had given him. So he followed the sounds of the struggle, which grew louder the closer he got to the servant wing. 

His guess had been correct. Grael restrained a witch by her wrists while dragging her towards one of the hallway’s cramped rooms. A few onlookers just stood by, watching grimly. None of them seemed inclined to do anything for the witch, though. Nor would he have expected them to, knowing what Meredith would do to them in exchange. As for her, she wasn’t screaming or sobbing like he’d seen others do. Oh no, she was putting up a hell of a fight.

For a while, Alex merely observed the battle. He could easily walk away and let the Warlord claim his prize. She might not be one of the coven bitches, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t any better than them. And after hearing what the servants thought of him, Alex wasn’t sure he cared what Grael did to _any_ witch.

He was still riding too close to that side of his temper that usually promised pain to anyone who got in his way. The other witches and warlords eyed him nervously and melted away in the darkness. Just as well. No matter what he decided to do, this wouldn’t end well for someone. 

_So who is it going to be?_

“You can keep struggling all you want, bitch, but you’ll be mine in the end,” Grael grunted at her with a laugh. “I’m gonna make sure to take my time with you, too.”

The witch didn’t respond to the boast, more focused on the struggle to get away. Smart thinking. Until she lost the battle, they were just empty threats. Worrying about them only wasted the slim chance that she could get away. She was so intent on that goal that she hadn’t even noticed him. Neither had Grael, in point of fact. He just might witness it all without either realizing they had an audience. Which made for an interesting thought. What games did the Warlord play with his prey?

Without warning, the witch whipped through a one-footed spin that knocked Grael off-balance and wrenched his arm painfully. He was forced to break his hold. Alex raised his eyebrows in surprise at her cunning and skill, wondering where she might have learned such a move. Grael, meanwhile, swore violently and snatched her up again.

“Think you’re clever, don’t you? Well, you won’t be much of _anything_ when I’m through with you.”

To prove his point, he slammed her into the wall. As Grael pinned her roughly, he leaned in close. One hand reached up to grab a fistful of hair. The witch showed no reaction, so he taunted her again.[19]

“Where should I start, bitch? You think you’ll be so tough when you’re strapped down, legs spread open. You’ll cry and scream in the end- they all do.”

This time, the witch twitched in his grasp. But try as she might, she couldn’t break free. Alex felt something twist inside him and he knew now who was going to dance with his temper. No matter what the other two witches had said about him, he wasn’t going to let this happen.

_You’re right, Grael- in the end, they all scream. Tonight, it’ll be_ your _turn._

* * *

 **2/Terreille**

The temperature of the hallway plummeted suddenly. Lilith’s concentration broke for a second as she sensed a presence of someone else nearby. Grael paid no attention to the fact that they were no longer alone. Not surprising, since he was still amusing himself with giving her the lurid details of all the things he was going to do to her.

Lilith wasn’t impressed, or intimidated in the least. Weaker witches would have been, but none of them could fight back. Unfortunately for Grael, she could. In fact, she’d been using the fight to her advantage. It kept him from noticing the death spell she’d been weaving around him. But evidently that had taken too long, because now someone else was here. And that someone was _pissed_. 

Casting a quick glance around to see who’d stumbled this far into the servant wing, Lilith’s eyes froze on the shadowy figure only yards away. 

_No…oh no it_ can’t _be._ She looked away and back, hoping her eyes had been playing tricks. They weren’t. There he stood, a lethal mix of masculine beauty and feline predator. _Not him. Anyone but_ him _._

Alexander DeSade. 

At first glance, he seemed casual- a bystander watching her plight without interest. Until she caught the glazed, cold expression in his eyes. Mother Night, he was already riding the killing edge. That’s when he chose to approach, every movement the graceful stalk of a predator. She was doomed. If she didn’t get away now, she was doomed.

Panicked, she abandoned the unfinished death spell and sent a phantom spike heel through Grael’s instep. As he cried out in surprise and lost his grip, Lilith took a chance and ran. She didn’t look back to see if Grael would follow her. All thoughts were bent on escape as she scrambled her way through the warren of corridors. 

A hideous scream erupted from the direction she’d come. The Prince had dealt with Grael himself. While she appreciated that at least that task had been taken care of, Lilith knew it would only make things worse. She had very little time to disappear before he came for her next. Chances were very good that he would. Lilith couldn’t let that happen.

But as she ran, it became harder to keep focused. Lilith couldn’t remember if she’d already been down this hallway, or which way she needed to go to escape from this wing. She turned a corner and let out a breathless shriek. He was there- blocking her way. Lilith slid to a stop and immediately took several steps backward. A Red shield pressed against her back. The Prince’s expression was impassive as he looked at her.

“You might as well save yourself the trouble of running.”

Although she didn’t make any attempt to escape, she shuffled her feet. Just to do _something._ He must have noticed, and sighed.

“Grael isn’t going to bother you again, witch.”

“That is the _least_ of my worries right now.” Lilith broke eye contact as she muttered, “I’ve heard of you.”

“I’m sure you have. What made you think you could run away?”

Lilith shrugged but didn’t answer. She needed to move; standing still was torture. But the Prince continued to pin her in place, standing between her and the only way out of the hallway. Short of passing through the Red shield- which she couldn’t afford to do right now- her options were severely limited.

“I know what you’re running from.”

_Shit._

He must have picked through Grael’s thoughts before he…well, she _assumed_ the Prince killed him. That meant he knew what the Queens had done to her. And now he’d followed her. Not good. She had to get away. Now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recognize that this sounds very similar to the opening for Bishop’s Daughter of the Blood, and some might be worried that I’m just mirroring her plot with an OC character and a Daemon Sadi clone. Fortunately, it’ll diverge quite quickly with a different plot of events.
> 
> Also- I began writing this story in the summer of 2013, and in the time since, have made what I feel is great progress in my style and story boarding technique. As a result, while I’m combing through these early chapters, I’m finding opportunities to correct defects and flaws I see now that I didn’t see then. It’s not that the writing was bad, but it could use for improvement. 


	3. The Prince's Suite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their encounter with Alex, Fawne and Kareal are notably shaken. Nor are they comfortable about what's going on in the servant wing with Grael, and so Kareal agrees to Fawne's suggestion for a place to hide for the night. Just in time, too. It's time to meet Meredith, Queen of Hayll. She and her coven of favorites are still in her suite following the demonstration with Lilith. We'll learn what provoked the Queen to inflict such a cruel punishment in the first place, and what she's hoping to get out of it. But of course, her plans don't quite go as expected when she learns of what happened to Grael.
> 
> Meanwhile, Lilith's put Alex in an awkward position. He's decided he wants to help her but she's not interested in letting him. Alex will ultimately have his way, however, bringing her back to his suite. She'll gear up for another round when it comes to the subject of her clothes. When that argument is settled, the Queen comes knocking on his door. Lucky for Lilith, Alex has a plan that should keep Meredith at bay for a while. And an idea about how to help her battle the safframate...

**1/Terreille**

The witch was still trying to edge away from him. Alex couldn’t blame her. If she’d heard stories of him, she’d likely assume he’d meant that as a threat. In another time and place, it might have been; this time it wasn’t. He didn’t want to hurt her, knowing full well that she was already in pain. From what Grael told him, the witch had been force-fed a large dose of _safframate_. By now its effects had to be excruciating to the point of madness.

Alex knew exactly what the drug could do to a person. After all, he had been dosed with it most of his life. Hated it. Hated that anyone could ever inflict that sort of torment on someone else. For that reason, he was motivated to find some way to help. Question was- how did he make _her_ understand that? At the moment, the witch was glaring at him through narrow eyes.

“And what- you thought you’d take his place?” She shook her head. “Not ever, Prince. I’ll make you kill me first.”

She meant it. Alex could see by the set of her chin that she was serious. He should have been relieved that he’d finally met a witch who didn’t expect- much less _want_ \- him to bed her. But he wasn’t. He was insulted. Hell’s fire, what was the matter with him?

“That wasn’t what I had in mind,” he assured her.

“Doesn’t matter. You can forget it- whatever it is.”

He paused at the vehemence in her voice. For his first attempt at rescuing a witch, this was not going well. Granted, he hadn’t expected it to be _easy_ , but her outright refusal to even _listen_ to reason was throwing him off-stride. This was not the time for a debate. They couldn’t be here when the coven bitches discovered that their plans had gone awry.

Or at least _she_ couldn’t. Unlike him, the witch would have no defense against Meredith’s retaliation. Not while she was fighting the _safframate_. Far better if she could find a place to lie low until it subsided. That might be somewhat difficult, given that Meredith wore the Gray. Hardly anywhere in the hall where she couldn’t find the witch. Alex reluctantly thought of the one place she _could_ hide.

“The dose they gave you- it will last at least until tomorrow. Maybe longer.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I have a suite not far away. No one would come there looking for you.” _Unless they had a death wish_ , he added silently to himself. “It’d be a safe place to wait for this to wear off.”

“Thanks, but I’m better off here.”

“They’ll send someone else once the Queens realize their pet is dead. It’s not safe to stay here.”

“Your alternative isn’t much safer.”

“Look, I’m not interested in you that way,” he said, exasperated.

“I can take care of myself, Prince.”

Damn she was stubborn. And that stubbornness was going to get her into trouble- if not killed. It was already causing Alex more of a headache than he bargained for. He ought to just let the matter drop and leave her here to face whatever fate she had coming. But he couldn’t. Nor could he seem to convince her to go with him, which made for quite the conundrum. 

Of course, he had the means to end this argument if he really wanted to. If he gave rein to the side of his nature that Alex used to seduce countless witches before her. The _safframate_ would make it even easier. In less than a minute, she would be begging him to take her to his suite. But he couldn’t bring himself to do that, either. It only reminded him of the things he’d done in the past, and what he’d almost done tonight.

Which only left him to make use of another avenue: Jewels. Just as effective, and without the need for playing games. He openly wore the Red as a constant reminder that he outranked them. And so the coven understood that unless they were in a position to punish him, _he_ called the shots. Perhaps the witch was too distracted in her condition to recognize that he had her at a disadvantage; he made a point to call attention to it with the intent to end the argument.

“You seem to think you have a say in this.” Alex allowed the Jewel in the pendant around his neck to glow with the reservoir of power within. “You don’t.”

She growled under her breath, “Snarly, pushy male.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What can it possibly matter to you where I wait out the night?”

Damned if he knew. He’d done what he set out to do, having freed her from the clutches of Grael. What happened to her next shouldn’t really concern him. If she wanted to spurn his offer in favor of a plan Alex was sure was nothing short of suicide, that was her business. Not his concern at all. He didn’t need to take on her problems when he had enough of his own. 

But even as he followed that completely logical line of thought, Alex told her, “It just does.”

“I’m out of here.”

She made a move to dash past him, but Alex’s reflexes were faster. He grabbed her wrist and refused to let go. Fed up with the argument, he resorted to one final option. Brute force wasn’t exactly his style, but she’d given him little choice.

“I think not, witch. You’ll end up dead or worse if you don’t do as I say. Now keep quiet and follow me.”

Mercifully, she obeyed his command as they threaded through empty hallways. Alex felt the tremors coursing through her. Could be the _safframate_ , but he suspected it had more to do with the fact that he was a Warlord Prince and she was going to be trapped alone with him. A terrifying prospect for someone in her condition. 

Most times, he’d revel in a witch’s fear of him. No game pleased him more than evoking terror out of the coven bitches. They tortured him and used him. But they all feared him. Alex glanced at the witch trudging reluctantly at his heels. The bitches who liked to torture him had planned to do the same thing to her. He didn’t know why, but it made this witch different. She wasn’t one of them.

No, it did _not_ make him happy that she feared him.

Tension built the longer they walked. At any moment, he expected Meredith to appear. Surely she’d sensed with her controlling ring that he’d tapped into his Jewels to create the Red shield. That alone should have brought her into this part of the hall to investigate what he was up to. Thank the Darkness, their luck held and they met no one on the way to his suite. 

Alex unlocked the door and stepped aside as he ordered, “In you go.”

“This really isn’t…”

* * *

**2/Terreille**

Fawne didn’t look behind her to see if the Prince was pursuing them. She hardly looked where she was even going, focused solely on getting as far away as fast as she could. The whole time, her body trembled and shook with a palsy of nerves, nearly causing her to trip over her feet twice. Beside her, Kareal wasn’t doing much better. Neither of them had been in the same room with DeSade before, let alone spoken directly with him. After what nearly happened to them tonight, she hoped never to repeat the experience.

Finally, she felt they’d gone far enough to slow down. The servants’ corridor and DeSade were well behind them. If he hadn’t caught up to them by now, he had no interest in making good on his threats. Or at least that’s what she would tell herself. Fawne knew full well that he could change his mind any time- maybe months from now, even- and they wouldn’t see it coming until it was too late. For the time being, though, the Prince must have been more interested in Grael’s prize.

_May the Darkness have mercy on her._

Fawne hadn’t known the witch very well. Not at all, really. Not even her name. She’d arrived a few months ago, but had kept mostly to herself when she wasn’t in the kitchens. Meant her daily routine had little to do with Fawne’s, which was spent overseeing the personal maids and upkeep of the hall. They’d only recently crossed paths a week ago, when she’d heard the witch talking about breaking away from Meredith and the coven. Like many others, Fawne had quickly found an excuse to be elsewhere; she didn’t want any whispers getting around that she was part of any plan to rebel.

Still, she wouldn’t wish Grael- or DeSade- on the witch. Whoever she might have been.

“That was close,” Kareal panted, slightly out of breath. “Far too close for my liking.”

“Mine, too.”

“What do you suppose _he_ was doing in the servant wing?”

Several ideas came to mind; none of them were pleasant to think about. Fawne couldn’t bring herself to say any of them aloud, and so she answered with a shrug, “I honestly don’t know, Kareal. Quite frankly, I’d rather not know why he was there.”

A bloodcurdling scream erupted through the corridor, raising the hairs on her arms. She caught her friend’s wide-eyed stare, sure she looked no less frightened. No mistake, the Prince had everything to do with that horrendous cry. How far had it carried? All the way to Meredith’s audience room? Fawne hoped not, for it would bring the Queen down on all of them. And then as quickly as it had been broken, silence fell once more.

“Who do you think it was?” No way of telling. The cry could have been the witch, but it could have been Grael just as easily. “I hope it was Grael. That wretch deserves whatever he gets.”

Fawne didn’t deny that she wouldn’t be sorry if DeSade killed the Queen’s favorite pet. Trouble was, Meredith always had more ready to take his place. Males eager to do whatever it took to gain some level of privilege for themselves. Or ones who just wanted the excuse to hurt other people- witches especially. She’d met plenty of _their_ kind in the two decades she’d been working in the hall.

_All the better that I managed to get Gillean away from Draega when I did. She’s far safer in one of the towns on the Askavi border._

Still, she missed her younger sister. They hadn’t seen or spoken to one another since Fawne bribed a family headed towards Kethal to smuggle Gillean out of Draega, too. She’d paid for that bribe out of the first marks she received for her work here. Not her first choice, but beyond Meredith’s court, Draega offered few ways to make a living for witches like her. It was the _only_ opportunity that paid enough to get Gillean out of the city. Fawne considered the sacrifice worth it.

_Just have to hope she is all right and that one day we’ll see each other again._

“I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow,” Fawne answered at last. With a glance around to get her bearings, she suggested, “Did you still want me to talk to Paeter?”

“If you think he wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all. C’mon. We’ll go now and hope he’s in his room.”

The corridors were eerily empty, but they made the trip in silence. A matter of caution and self-preservation. Just because they didn’t _see_ anyone didn’t mean no one was around. Didn’t need to learn that lesson more than once. She was glad when they arrived at their destination without attracting any unwanted attention.

Paeter’s room was at the end of the hallway designated for pleasure slaves. Fawne stopped in front of it and cast a look sideways at Kareal. The witch nodded, so she knocked softly on the door. A few minutes passed before she heard footsteps on the other side. The handle turned and Paeter appeared in the door frame, clearly surprised to see her. He peered down the hall, checking to be sure no one else was around. That’s when he noticed Kareal.

“Fawne?” He frowned. “You really shouldn’t be wandering around the hall tonight. It’s not safe.”

“I know.” _Boy do I know._ “But it’s not safe in the servant wing, either. That why we’re here.”

\----

“I said- _in you go_.”

Only when she crossed the threshold and he’d closed the door behind them did Alex feel any relief. That was the hardest part done. He put a Red lock and shield on the door and turned to face the witch now under his charge. She looked…vulnerable, standing uncertainly in the middle of the room. He had no idea how to put her at ease. Hell’s fire, he’d never had a witch in his suite before, so what was he supposed to do?

_Maybe start with something simple- like names._

“We didn’t really introduce ourselves,” he said finally. “I haven’t seen you before, so I didn’t catch your name.”

She fiddled with the cuffs of her dress and glanced around the room. It took her a few minutes to focus enough to answer him.

“Lilith.”

“Just Lilith?”

“Morgan.” She added as she began to pace. “And you’re Prince Alexander DeSade.”

Now what? That killed all of two minutes, but now Alex could think of nothing to say. Oh he knew what he _would_ have said if this were one of the games he played with the bitch Queens and their covens. The sharp barbs; the tantalizing innuendos meant to lure them into his vicious traps. All of that came second nature to him. But Alex admitted he was lost when it came to just _talking_ with a witch. 

So he slipped his hands in his trouser pockets and watched her pace the room. She ignored him, or at least was doing a credible job of trying. Alex noted that her shoulders twitched at the constant brush of her clothes. Rather, her whole body did. It had to be torture. _Safframate_ over sensitized the skin to the point even the slightest touch brought with it painful discomfort.

“You shouldn’t wear that.”

“What?”

“Those clothes. Don’t you have something less…” the words died on his lips under her dark glare. He tried again. “I’m just saying that you’d feel better if you weren’t wearing all of that.”

“Nothing I have is going to be any better than what I’ve got on.”

Swapping out one set of clothes for another wasn’t really what he’d been suggesting. If she truly meant to get any relief, best do to without clothes at all. But as she clearly wasn’t going to go for _that_ idea, Alex considered how else they might solve the dilemma. At last, he thought he hit upon a reasonable solution.

“I might have something.”

“Something like what?”

With a sigh, Alex slid by her to fetch a plain dress shirt from his wardrobe. It would be long enough that she wouldn’t have to wear anything else, and loose enough to provide at least _some_ relief. Lilith had resumed pacing by the time he returned. As her current circuit brought her within a few feet of him, Alex held out the garment to her.

“Here.”

She caught it in both hands and looked at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I can’t wear _your_ clothes. It’s…it’s…” she sputtered and then bit her lip, still staring at the shirt. “It’s not proper.”

“So you’d rather be driven insane in that dress? You think I don’t know what it’s like, but I do. I know all about it.”

She blushed bright red and started pacing again. Alex figured she must not have had too many lovers, or maybe she’d be less embarrassed at the thought of wearing a man’s shirt. He kept that opinion to himself. For a time, he merely watched and wondered what to do. Lilith kept glancing down, until finally she sighed.

“I suppose I could try it.”

“Now you’re talking sense.”

He expected that having made her decision, Lilith would change into the shirt. She didn’t. Lilith just stared at him with an odd look on her face. What was she waiting for? It’s not like he _cared_ what he saw- he’d seen hundreds of witches in his lifetime. Nor did he expect that she would care what he thought, anyway. She hadn’t cared about anything else up to this point.

“What’s the matter?”

“Can’t you go somewhere else while I do this?”

“What?”

“I would rather prefer it if you weren’t…watching.”

Apparently, it _did_ matter to her. Incredulous, Alex scoffed lightly, “You can’t seriously be that much of a prude.”

Lilith didn’t take too kindly to his tone. She stomped her foot and ground her teeth. 

“May the Darkness be merciful and grant me patience. What’s so wrong with wanting a little privacy?”

“Fine,” Alex capitulated. It made no difference to him either way. “I’ll go in the other room.”

“Thank you, Prince.”

* * *

**3/Terreille**

Meredith, Queen of Hayll, surveyed the group of witches before her with smug satisfaction. She had risen to assume control of Draega nearly seven hundred years ago, and had been consolidating her power in the centuries since. For now she ruled the entire Territory; one day, she planned to expand that to include the entire realm. And beyond. One day it would _all_ be hers.

In the meantime, she contented herself with basking in the authority she held over Hayll- and over her court in particular. She could do anything she liked with them for no reason other than their lives belonged to her. From time to time, Meredith conducted a demonstration to remind the witches of that fact. Tonight had been one of those times, although not one she’d _planned_.

No, certainly not planned. But after her closest advisor, Valinna, caught one of the kitchen maids red-handed with a half-dozen controlling rings from the store room, dealing with _her_ became the top priority for the evening. How _dare_ she steal from a Queen. From _the_ Queen. If she had found that scheming little bitch, Meredith would have destroyed her on the spot; the Black Widow had other ideas.

Valinna insisted upon interrogating the witch to find out why she’d stolen the rings in the first place. That was classic Valinna. She always wanted to dig into the why. Meredith really didn’t care, but when the Black Widow suggested they conduct the interview in front of the whole court, she was more than happy to agree. Let them watch Valinna pick apart the witch and tear down all her inner barriers. Let them remember that it could be them.

Except the bitch didn’t break. No matter what tactic the Black Widow used, she couldn’t find a crack to pry open. Not even enough to force her to tell them her name and Jewels. Meredith almost deemed the whole demonstration a disaster until she hit upon the idea to dose the witch with _safframate_ and give her to Grael. Until now, she’d only used the drug on blood males, but thought maybe this would give them the leverage they wanted. At two spoonfuls, the _safframate_ would have been enough to shred the bitch’s mind. Grael was merely petty revenge for having wasted Meredith’s time.

This time tomorrow, Valinna would have the opportunity to learn anything and everything she wanted to know. But what to do with the others…

*Were you planning to keep the coven here all evening?*

Meredith’s outward expression didn’t change, but she rolled her eyes inwardly at the tone in Valinna’s private thread. Just like the Black Widow to raise the point just as the subject crossed her own mind. Occasionally, she swore the witch had been reading her thoughts to have timed her inquiries with such uncanny precision. A ridiculous notion, given that Valinna wore the Red and Meredith the Gray. No one was getting past her barriers.

She allowed herself a leisurely minute or two before sending a reply.

*I’ll keep them however long I please*

*I didn’t say you couldn’t. I’m just curious why you’re so eager to be penned in with a dozen witches in a room not truly designed to hold more than four*

The witch had a point. While the main chamber of her suite was quite large, the space felt cramped with the entire court packed into it. Not to mention that witches weren’t the sort of company she tended to invite here in the evenings.

*If you must know, I was about to release them to their own devices*

*About that,* Valinna interjected quickly. *I think it best to keep them away from the blood males*

*Whatever for?*

*I still don’t know why the Warlord’s Ring failed earlier today. Until I do, it’s not worth the risk- for anyone*

Those last two words implied that she meant Meredith should follow suit. That would not do at all. She’d intended to make use of one of her newest arrivals to work off some pent up frustration. Besides, a Queen wearing the Gray had no cause to worry about a light-jeweled Warlord. But the warning look in the Black Widow’s eye told her that Valinna would be resolute on this matter. So while it irked her to spend the night without entertainment, Meredith resigned herself to following the witch’s advice; it had never steered her wrong before.

*And this precaution is absolutely necessary?*

*Yes*

*Oh all right, then*

“Well, ladies,” she addressed them sharply. “I hope you all found this evening as informative as I did. And let it be a lesson to you about what happens to _any_ witch who takes what rightfully belongs to me.”

No words at all, just subdued nodding.

“Excellent. Then I give you permission to pursue your own interests for the remainder of the evening.” The inner circle witches moved first, drifting towards the door. Just as they reached it, Meredith called out. “Oh, I ought to mention one last thing- the blood males are off-limits tonight.”

Kaeremi and Idrina complained the loudest at that, but even their protests were barely more than a grumble of mild annoyance. Meredith ignored them, turning her attention to the two witches on her left, who were whispering to one another. Ettia and her cousin, Bethaeny. No doubt the latter was disappointed to have _her_ plans cancelled. The witch had likely been hoping to spend her evening with DeSade as originally promised.

_If that imbecile truly knew what_ that _one would do to her, she wouldn’t be so put out._

Meredith didn’t usually allow the lower circle witches the use of her greatest prize, but after what happened to the _last_ first circle witch who’d tried to enjoy the Prince…well, she couldn’t afford to lose anyone who _mattered_. For three months, she hadn’t allowed him to service anyone. The decision had not been a popular one with the court, and Meredith was tired of listening to their petitions to reconsider. The simple farm-bred klutz was a perfect test to see if DeSade was willing to be reasonable. If not…well, she wasn’t losing much.

While she’d been thinking, Meredith was dimly aware of a commotion at the opposite end of the room. She drew her attention back to her surroundings, spotting the source of the upset. Larkin and Othar. Two of her most dependable tools after Grael. Their primary job was to keep the pleasure slaves in line when they weren’t servicing the coven. But they performed other random tasks for her as well. From time to time, she gave them a witch from her staff to play with.

_Bribes to keep_ them _in line._

What were they doing here, though? She was about to order Chenoa to discipline them through her controlling rings, but something in their demeanors held her back. Both men seemed rattled. Unusual for them. Unusual enough that she allowed them to approach. Still, Meredith let them know she was displeased.

“You’d better have a good reason for interrupting.”

“We surely do,” Larkin insisted.

Raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at the lack of deference in his tone, she bade him warningly, “Well, let’s hear it, then.”

“Grael is dead.”

The words didn’t register at first. When they did, Meredith found herself unable to credit them as true. Grael couldn’t be _dead_. Not at the hands of some nobody witch- especially one dosed with _safframate_ as heavily as this one had had been. She must have heard wrong.

“That can’t possibly be.”

“I’m telling you it _is_. We saw the body ourselves.”

“Or rather what was _left_ of it,” Othar muttered ominously. “Which wasn’t much.”

Both men’s expressions were quite earnest, despite Meredith’s skepticism. The more seconds ticked by without either breaking under her stare, the more she came to accept the news as true. Grael. Dead. The loss of one of her most effective tools filled her with fury. But underneath that rage, a gnawing anxiety rose to the surface. She glanced over at Valinna, whose stern frown conveyed that she shared the same unease.

“And what of the witch,” she demanded as soon as she could bring herself to form the question. “I notice you did not say anything regarding her. Nor do I see her with you. So where is _she_?”

“Gone.” Larkin answered with a shrug. “No sign of her or anyone else. Just Grael…spattered in a hundred pieces like we said. Looks like someone painted the corridor walls with his blood.”

_A hundred pieces._ _Blood spattered everywhere._ The description reminded her of an account from another time. Almost too close for comfort, because if her suspicions were true, it meant DeSade was even less predictable than Meredith had thought. _Damn him. Grael was mine._

Meredith intended to make that point crystal clear to the Prince. Right now. She’d deal with what happened to that thieving bitch afterward, knowing that the _safframate_ would have prevented her from getting too far. Rising from her seat, Meredith addressed the two men coolly.

“I’ll have the matter seen to. You may go now.”

After they’d left, she dismissed most of the coven. She almost dismissed them all, but kept Ettia and her cousin. If she had to send someone into DeSade’s suite, no sense in wasting the opportunity to make the latter useful for _something_. As for Ettia, she could use the exposure in dealing with the Prince, having been promoted to the inner circle not so long ago. Valinna remained at her side as well, and the four of them made their way to the Prince’s private quarters.

* * *

**4/Terreille**

Lilith breathed a little easier once the Prince was out of sight. The _safframate_ was making it increasingly difficult to focus on why she was here. What she came here to do. Having _him_ in the room only made that harder. And if he’d stayed to watch her undress…she might have done something very foolish. 

And oh how she wanted to do something foolish. 

Under the circumstances, odds were not in Lilith’s favor that she could resist that desire for very long. She was alone with a Warlord Prince. Not with just _any_ Warlord Prince- the most attractive, dark-jeweled Warlord Prince in all of Terreille. Mother Night. It just wasn’t fair that he also possessed a rich, seductive voice that could melt a woman’s bones. Knowing from whom he inherited it, Lilith directed a silent curse in the direction of the Keep. And then she cursed the root of her problem.

 _Damn the_ safframate _and its mind games._

Lilith tried to shove those thoughts aside as she planned her next move. She didn’t have to go through with this. With the Prince in the next room, she could take this opportunity to pass through his shield and find somewhere else to wait out the next few days. But that would reveal too much about her jeweled strength, even if he assumed she wore only the Red. Not a chance she could afford to take.

Which left her with no alternative. Sighing, Lilith vanished the dress she’d been wearing and shrugged into the Prince’s shirt. As she buttoned it, she had to admit that he’d been right. Light silk wasn’t as unbearable as the linen and wool of her own clothes, but she still wished she hadn’t agreed to wear it. The layers had been barriers of protection keeping her away from him. And now all that protection had been replaced by a filmy garment that barely came down to her knees. She was sure he could see right through it.

The Prince’s voice floated down the hall to inquire, “Is it safe for me to come out there again?”

_Not likely_ , Lilith thought with a grimace. 

“As safe as it’s ever going to be, I guess.”

He emerged from the hallway leading to his room and stopped when he saw her. In one slow sweeping gaze, he studied her from head to toe. His masked expression proved to be far more concerning than if he’d shown open interest. No way of knowing _what_ was beneath the façade.

_Definitely not safe here._

She should have taken the opportunity to run. Too late now. So Lilith paced, always keeping her circuit well away from him. Mother Night how she hurt. Another spasm ripped through her and she sucked in a breath through her teeth with a hiss. Focus. Just focus on breathing. But it wasn’t helping to have him staring at her. Nerves frayed, she whirled around to face him.

“ _WHAT!?”_

“How much did they give you?”

“I don’t remember.” Lilith _did_ remember. She just didn’t want to tell him the truth. But the Prince wasn’t buying her lie, leveling a hard look in her direction as he waited for a better answer. With a sigh, she capitulated. “Okay, so it was two spoonfuls.”

His sharply indrawn breath was the reason she hadn’t wanted to tell him. He would know _exactly_ what it meant to receive that much _safframate_. Several minutes passed before the Prince offered any response.

“That’s madness. No one survives a dose like that.”

“Well I mean to. There are a lot of things I’ve got to do yet.”

He didn’t ask her what she meant by that, or say anything at all. Just stared at her. Lilith couldn’t bear the scrutiny and resumed pacing to give herself something else to focus on. It helped, but not much. After some time, he spoke again.

“I think I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

“Okay.”

“You should be fine out here.”

“Okay.”

The Prince shook his head and retreated into the darkness of the hallway leading to his bedroom. Lilith was grateful that he was no longer an immediate distraction. It was all she could do to pace and keep her sanity as the drug continued to rage on in her body. And so a half-hour passed with agonizing slowness, marked only by each additional circuit she made around the room. Somewhere around the hundredth one, someone knocked on the outer door. She jumped, startled.

“Prince DeSade, your presence is demanded, _immediately_.”

Lilith recognized that voice. Meredith. Despite the Prince’s assurance that no one would come here looking for her, the Queen herself was now standing just outside that door. She backed to the far side of the room and shuddered involuntarily. Partly from the _safframate_ ; partly at the thought of what she’d have to do if Meredith insisted upon searching the suite. She couldn’t be allowed to discover her here or everything would be ruined. 

_You’d better reconsider finding the nearest window and make a run for it._

That wasn’t a much better plan. If she disappeared, that would almost certainly cause problems, too. Lilith hesitated, unable to make a decision what to do. And ultimately, that hesitation cost her the opportunity to escape. At the second knock, the Prince strode into the room. He pointed to a closet and motioned that she should get in. Lilith didn’t argue, and squeezed between two coats.

Luckily for her, the closet door was made of horizontal wooden slats. She peered through them just in time to watch him fling open the door. Meredith stood on the other side, the absolute picture of impatience. Not surprisingly, she wasn’t alone. Valinna and two other witches had come with her. The Prince paid little attention to any of them, fixing a disinterested stare on the Queen.

“Meredith, how unusual to find you visiting my suite at this hour. To what do I owe the honor?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” she scoffed. “One of the Warlords of the Court is dead.”

“How unfortunate,” the Prince crooned. “And you thought I’d want to know.”

“I came to demand an explanation from the one who murdered him.”

The outrage in her tone was unmistakable. Most would cower in fear; the Prince hardly batted an eyelash. He kept her waiting for at least a minute before offering any reply. And even that bespoke an air of bemused insolence.

“Oh yes, that. My apologies, darling, but Grael got in the way of something I wanted. If he hadn’t been so insistent to keep it…” he shrugged.

The implication of those words were not lost on Lilith. Or Meredith, for that matter. Obviously, he meant her. It was a good ploy, she had to admit. If he openly admitted that Lilith was in his suite, the Queen wouldn’t have any reason to keep searching for her. And if he convinced her that he would do the job Grael had been tasked to perform, she would be content to leave her with him. From what Lilith could see, Meredith was at least intrigued enough to entertain the idea. Her fury had abated in favor of barely concealed interest.

“Something you wanted, you say. Very interesting.”

“And now you’re interrupting me.”

The Queen’s look turned calculating. She’d taken the bait he’d dangled for her. Lilith noted that the Black Widow beside her wasn’t quite as sold on the idea, but she didn’t seem inclined to bring up her concerns. Valinna wouldn’t risk contradicting Meredith in front of the Prince- or the other two witches- but no doubt she’d have something to say about it when the two were alone. For now, though, Lilith counted it in her favor that the witch didn’t intervene.

“Am I to understand that you brought this…something…here to play with?”

“Why of course.”

“I should have thought of you first, naturally. An excellent turn of events.” She cast a look to the witches with her. “I believe all is settled to my satisfaction. It is regrettable to have lost Grael, but he was a fool and brought his fate on himself.”

Valinna showed no reaction, but the other two witches nodded in agreement. Both of them cast wary looks at the Prince. Lilith couldn’t see his expression from her hiding place, but she could guess that it was something unsettling. The Queen turned back to him.

“By all means, Prince, have your fun. But mind you- we want her _alive_ when it’s over. Understood?”

“As the Lady pleases. Is that all you expect- alive?”

She must have reconsidered the latitude that instruction afforded him, and clarified, “And whole enough that she’s still able to answer questions coherently.”

After a moment of thoughtful silence, he sighed as if annoyed by the inconvenience of Meredith’s restrictions.

“Jewels?”

“She won’t have need of those.”

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t spoil _all_ I had planned.”

“We’ll be back to collect her in a few days, Prince. See that it’s done by then.”

With that, she turned on her heel and led the others away. Lilith watched the Prince wait for them to disappear around a corner before closing the door. He restored the Red lock and walked towards the closet. Lilith didn’t move or breathe. She was so focused on getting through another spasm that she nearly toppled over when he yanked the door open.

“Didn’t you hear me say it was safe to come out?”

“No,” she gasped.

He knelt down beside her, entirely too close for comfort. Lilith scooted back. 

“Relax,” he said. “It was a game- a lie I told them to buy you some time.”

“I know what you were doing. I’m not stupid.”

They lapsed into silence again. Lilith had to move before she did something she’d regret. She skirted around him and went back to pacing the room. The Prince should go back to bed now that the Queen was gone. No reason for him to stay out here with her. But all he did was stare. Lilith wasn’t sure she liked the expression he wore.

* * *

**5/Terreille**

She was suffering. He could see it in every move of her body. Every nerve and muscle was strung tight as a piano wire. When he’d gone to his bedroom earlier, he’d heard her constant pacing. Alex thought again about what she’d said.

_Two spoonfuls._

Meredith and her coven bitches rarely dosed him- or the other pleasure slaves- with more than one spoonful. And for good reason. One was enough to keep a man aroused long enough to satisfy their needs. But _two_. Alex hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said it was madness. A dose like that had just one purpose- to completely break the body, mind and Jewels. Usually an added cruelty as part of an execution.

Which brought him back to Lilith. What had she done that prompted Meredith to do it? And what could they want with a witch in _that_ condition, but left alive? He couldn’t think of good answers to either of those questions. For the time being, Alex focused on the more immediate question of what to do now that he’d convinced Meredith to let him keep Lilith here.

_Nothing says I have to do anything._

After living in this court all his life, he’d gotten used pain and suffering- his or anyone else’s. When it came to himself, he’d learned to embrace it. Use it as a weapon against his tormentors. The suffering of others…in most cases, he chose to ignore it. For those who didn’t deserve to suffer, he saw no benefit in interceding on their behalf. Rare that he could do anything, anyway. So the point was a valid one. He could easily say that he’d done enough for the witch and leave it at that. She could deal with the _safframate_ on her own.

Except that she _couldn’t_. Lilith had no hope of surviving the next few days by pacing alone. It was only going to get worse. The relentless need caused by the drug would send her into a state of hysteria. Eventually she’d break, and it would take her sanity and her Jewels.

_That brings up an interesting question- just what are they, anyway?_

Alex hadn’t thought of it until now, but he’d yet to get a sense of Lilith’s Jewels. She wasn’t wearing them openly, but he ought to be able to sense _something_. As she continued to pace, he thought he’d try to find them out. After several minutes of no luck, Alex gave up. Maybe she didn’t wear any. If that was the case, he was all the more puzzled why the bitches wanted her destroyed.

The _safframate_ gripped her again. Blood drained out of her face and she stared right through him. He couldn’t help admiring her tenacity, but it was clear the toll it was taking for her to keep fighting. Alex’s thoughts turned down an unexpected road. She could survive this in one piece…if he were willing to help. _Safframate_ worked itself out in one of two ways- violence or sex. Although not a complete relief, sex could take the edge off the worst of it and make things bearable.

Especially with someone like him.

Of course, even considering that option was insane. Alex was the _last_ person who’d ever want to take a witch to bed. Hadn’t the court bitches taught him enough to resent sex? It was a duty, and one he’d learned to hate. Oh he’d mastered every aspect. Mastered all the ways to make a witch feel whatever he wanted. And he’d used those skills in ways none of them expected and few survived. They learned not to trust him unless someone was controlling the Ring he wore.

 _Even then it wasn’t always enough,_ he added.

So only the Darkness knew why he would even _consider_ having sex with a witch when he wasn’t forced to, or if he wasn’t using it to have revenge on Meredith’s coven. He shouldn’t. _Wouldn’t_. Even if he wanted to help her, Alex had to draw the line at _that_.

Easier said than done. As he watched Lilith continue to pace, that resolve weakened with every passing minute. Alex told himself he’d be offering out of charity- that it would be the right thing to do. Wasn’t that a good enough reason? She was suffering like he’d suffered, and he could help her through it. Wouldn’t he have wanted someone to do that for him?

He’d almost convinced himself that he could have no other reason to reconsider when she made another circuit around the room, passing in front of him. Her hands were balled into fists, wrinkling the shirt he’d lent her. But Alex’s attention was drawn elsewhere, noticing that the bottom hem stopped just above her knees to leave most of her legs bare. Or worse, that the ivory-colored silk wasn’t quite heavy enough to completely obscure the swell of her hips and breasts…not to mention the dark apex at the juncture of her thighs. 

Before he could stop himself, Alex had already sketched a mental picture of what she might look like naked. Not a displeasing thought, to his surprise. He had expected to feel revulsion and dread. Instead, interest stirred through him. More than interest, in fact. Hell’s fire and Mother Night- he _wanted_ her.

_I should walk away now,_ he told himself. _I’ve never wanted a witch before and I certainly don’t want to want one now._

Instead of taking his own advice, he heard himself say, “Lilith?”

“I thought you’d go back to sleep,” she replied, her voice sharp, as if she already suspected the direction his thoughts had taken.

“Not tired.”

“You don’t need to watch over me like a mother hen.”

“Lilith, you can’t keep this up.”

“I’ve walked miles before. My legs won’t collapse if I walk a few more.” She glanced down at her feet. “Although the same might not be true of the carpet.”

“Lilith, I’m serious.” Obviously she was trying to downplay the pain. Alex wasn’t going to let her, so he put himself directly in her way. When she tried to step around, he held his arm out to stop her. “It’s only going to get worse. If you don’t do something, you could shatter your mind or your Jewels- or both.”

“I’m tougher than you give me credit for,” she threw back at him. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Well, then what would you have me do?”

Apparently, she didn’t know as much about _safframate_ as he did. Or she was too focused on what the drug was doing to her to realize where the conversation was headed. Might as well get it over with.

“There’s one thing proven to help.”

Lilith’s expression grew still and closed. No mistake she knew what he meant now. She looked even _less_ thrilled to hear it than he was to make the offer, even if he hadn’t quite gotten to it yet.

“You’d better not be suggesting what I _think_ you’re suggesting, Prince.”

“I speak from experience. It _does_ help.”

“You are, aren’t you? You’re suggesting that I…that we…” she backed away.

“I’m offering to help. You don’t have to look so damned horrified.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“How can you ask me that? You should know why not more than anyone else.”

Alex was taken aback at her response, and waited for some explanation. All he got was silence. When it became obvious she wasn’t going to say anything else, he prompted her, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she replied bitterly. “It means nothing. Go back to sleep and leave me alone. I don’t need _your_ help.”

“Fine,” he swore and stalked away from her.

Let her pace herself into a frenzy. What did he care that she didn’t want his help? Alex told himself she’d done him a favor by refusing the offer. He should feel lucky that she didn’t want him. But as the hours passed and the sounds of pacing didn’t stop, Alex felt his anger lessen.

Every so often he heard a choked sob. It brought up memories he never wanted to think of again. And the longer the night went on, the less lucky he was beginning to feel. At some point, he considered an aural shield. At least then he couldn’t hear her suffering. But Alex couldn’t bring himself to do it. He stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep as the night crawled onward.


	4. Tainted Coven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First, Meredith is hoping that her decision will solve some rather distressing problems she has with Alex. She'll give Ettia the daunting task of keeping the coven safe for the next few days. The witch doesn't have much in the way of options to accomplish it. In addition to that, she gives us some insight into life in Hayll, and her thoughts on Meredith, Valinna and Alex. Then she'll be joined by Bethaeny, who needs a reality check about what Meredith had planned for her.
> 
> The Queen, meanwhile, is having a serious discussion about Alex with Valinna. The latter is not enthusiastic about keeping him around, and argues in favor of getting rid of him, but Meredith is equally adamant that she can still make it work. Their argument will shed some light on how Alex came to be in Draega, and what their aim was in bringing him there. In the end, the Queen has managed to forestall the Black Widow's plans to eliminate the Prince, but now they have to think of a way of controlling him. This'll lead to a rather dark suggestion from Valinna about how they could use Lilith.

**1/Terreille**

Meredith refused to let the others see how much Prince DeSade unnerved her, and regretted her decision to bring the younger two witches along. They had been there to witness his outright insolence- if not defiance- and would no doubt talk of it with the rest of the coven. Unacceptable. She would have to find some means of redirecting their focus. Make it about something other than what it looked like.

_And what_ does _it look like?_

DeSade was becoming a dangerous liability. She feared that the rage in him had gone permanently cold. Not only had he killed Grael, but he showed no remorse or contrition when she came to demand an apology for it. At this rate, he was fast becoming an expensive toy that she could no longer play with. Pretty to look at, but not good for much of anything else. Certainly wasn’t the useful tool she’d been hoping for all those centuries ago.

Tonight he was willing to be the tool, though, and that terrifying rage was in her favor. She may have lost Grael, but Meredith had other warlords to take his place. It was more important that the Prince was going to take care of the little bitch. Meredith allowed herself a moment of smug satisfaction at the thought of how DeSade would rip her apart.

_And who knows- maybe giving him the bitch will solve the problem with him._

DeSade had never shown any interest in the servants before, so she’d never thought to waste him on them. It had been just as easy to give the troublesome ones to Grael. Perhaps that had been a mistake. Easily rectified. She’d let the Prince play with the bitch for a few days, and test out his temper on Bethaeny as she’d already planned to do. If the witch survived, Meredith would make some much-anticipated adjustments to his schedule. 

A thrill spiraled through her as she fantasized about having him sufficiently under control to risk bedding him herself. It had been so long since she’d felt the satisfaction DeSade provided in bed. She still remembered it. Remembered the expert touch of his hands and mouth on her body. Of the feel of him inside her as she rode him to the peak of ecstasy. No other man had ever been able to match his skill.

“I guess I won’t expect the use of the Prince anytime soon.” The sound of Bethaeny’s plaintive remark tore through Meredith’s reverie. As if that wasn’t enough to irritate her, the bitch actually followed it with, “He’s supposed to be satisfying the coven. That’s what he’s here for, isn’t it?”

If she hadn’t already decided to give that bitch to DeSade, Meredith would have settled on that right on the spot. The audacity to utter something like that right in front of the Queen. Even after the warnings she’d given the coven only a short time ago about wanting what belonged to her. And DeSade most _definitely_ belonged to her. Not that simpering, foolish girl. If she had to endure one more stupid remark like _that_ , she’d turn them around and throw the bitch into the Prince’s suite tonight.

“The Prince is here to satisfy _me_ ,” Meredith replied coolly. “So you keep that in mind.”

Both witches were silent for the rest of the journey back to the wing belonging to the coven. When they arrived, Bethaeny mumbled some excuse and made a hasty retreat for her suite. Ettia remained behind, watching her cousin with disgust.

“I don’t know what my aunt was thinking in recommending her to come here.”

_She was likely thinking what all mothers do- that she could use her daughter as a bargaining chip on her behalf._ _Just as yours did._

They reached one of the private salons, and Meredith stepped inside. It was early yet to go to sleep- especially alone. Once again, she chafed at Valinna’s order not to indulge herself. But on the other hand, after those thoughts of DeSade, settling for anything less didn’t hold much appeal. So it was just as well she wouldn’t be disappointed by one of the other warlords.

Valinna followed behind her, as Meredith expected she would. Ettia hesitated in the hallway. She still wasn’t quite accustomed to her status in the first circle, and wasn’t used to spending time with just the two of them. But Meredith’s look convinced the witch that she should join them. At Valinna’s direction, Ettia closed the door behind her. She didn’t look at all comfortable to be in this room alone, perching somewhat gingerly on the edge of one of the couches.

_Good._

Meredith didn’t want any of her coven- not even the first circle- thinking that they were close to being her equal. She was the Queen and they were her pawns. After what just happened with DeSade, she was encouraged to see that Ettia wasn’t getting any ideas to the contrary.

“Do you think he’ll keep her alive as he promised,” the witch ventured to ask.

“Of course,” Meredith replied dismissively. “He would never disobey my command.”

She wasn’t certain that last part was true anymore, but said it to reinforce the perception that she still maintained absolute control of DeSade. In the meantime, she waited to see what Ettia would say next.

“And I suppose there’s always the threat of using the Ring. Just in case he gets too carried away.”

The less said about Rings right now the better, in Meredith’s opinion. She certainly didn’t want to discuss the worrying lack of response she felt from her controlling ring when she reached out to monitor DeSade. The connection felt…muted. All she received back were vague impressions and subdued emotions- like looking through a glass of murky water. A stark difference from the distinct link she typically felt with DeSade. Hell’s fire, she couldn’t even distinguish it as _him_.

“Not necessary.”

“But-”

“Relax, Ettia,” she cut in with a condescending smile. “The Prince will enjoy the game all the more if he knows we expect her alive in the end. How cruel do you think he can be when he’s balancing what he _wants_ to do against what would actually _kill_ the bitch?”

Her newest protégé wasn’t all that convinced of the plan. Point in fact, neither was Valinna. The Black Widow practically radiated with glowering disapproval. But again, she wouldn’t risk contradicting Meredith in front of a coven witch like Ettia, so the decision would stand. At least until the two of them were alone. Then she expected Valinna would have much to say to her.

“So, we’re _not_ going to monitor him through the Ring?”

“No. Let him think he has his freedom.”

“What if he finishes with her early? It could leave the coven vulnerable.”

Meredith sighed in annoyance. Ettia was right, but she had expected the witch to be smart enough to realize that it was _her_ job to make sure that wasn’t a problem. Times like this, she wasn’t much more useful than Bethaeny. Rather than waste her time waiting for that understanding to materialize, Meredith stated it bluntly for her.

“Well then, you’d better find a way to keep that from happening.”

Ettia regarded her warily, understanding the threat underlying the command. She knew that if the Prince _did_ divert himself with one of the coven witches, _she’d_ be held responsible. Even if she was new to the first circle, the witch had seen enough to know what happened to anyone who didn’t meet Meredith’s expectations. She swallowed carefully and nodded.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, rising from the seat cushion with haste. “If you don’t object, I will take my leave to take care of that now?”

“Not at all.”

And then she was gone. Meredith would have found Ettia’s reaction amusing if she weren’t so irritated. What was worse, now she would have to deal with Valinna, which was sure to be even _more_ aggravating. The Black Widow lost no time in making her opinion known.

“You’re taking a serious risk in putting your trust in Ettia, don’t you think?”

* * *

**2/Terreille**

No sooner had Ettia closed the door behind her, she pressed her palms against her eyes and cursed under her breath. This was _not_ the time to be noticed by Hayll’s Queen- if ever there was a _good_ time. Ettia had been hoping to stay relatively invisible until Meredith and Valinna weren’t quite so focused on the hunt for traitors within the coven. If this played out as it had in the past, life would return to normal in a few weeks.

_Or what passes for normal around here,_ she added in afterthought.

After half a century of serving in the territory Queen’s court, Ettia knew what went on here- and in Hayll on the whole- couldn’t be normal. The Blood couldn’t be meant to live every day in constant fear and uncertainty. But this was all she’d known. Meredith had risen to become Hayll’s Queen long before she was born, and would likely rule the territory until she returned to the Darkness.

_Which won’t be long in coming if I don’t figure out a way to keep DeSade away from the rest of the coven._

A daunting assignment. Unlike her cousin, Ettia never expressed any wish to meet Meredith’s prize possession in private. Not to say she didn’t fantasize every once in a while what it might be like to spend a few hours experiencing his legendary skills. All witches did. The Prince was seduction in motion. Just watching him do something as mundane as drink a glass of wine was enough to arouse a woman’s- or even a man’s- desire.

But succumbing to the temptation to make fantasy a reality would be a fatal mistake. A witch foolish enough to lust after him paid for that pleasure at the expense of excruciating pain. Oftentimes, she paid with her life- Ring of Obedience be damned. The price wasn’t worth it, in Ettia’s opinion. So she kept well away from the Prince and never gave Meredith any reason to offer her the use of him.

Tonight, it would appear that her luck had run out. If DeSade wasn’t content with the witch he’d been given, she might have no choice but to sacrifice herself. At least that’s what she took away from Meredith’s instructions. The implication was there, and even if it _wasn’t_ , better to face DeSade than to find out what the Queen would do to her if she failed. Or so Ettia would tell herself in the event she had no other option.

_I could just sacrifice Bethaeny._

That thought came unbidden, but not entirely unwelcome. After all, why _not_ her? Meredith had already been willing to let DeSade destroy her cousin, and she saw tonight’s change of schedule as a delay of the inevitable. So if someone had to give her life for the good of the rest of the coven, might as well be someone the Queen wouldn’t mind losing. At most, she’d see the loss as an annoyance.

As for Ettia, she supposed that she ought to feel something. Regret? Guilt? Sadness at the very least. And maybe she would, if that’s how this played out. Or perhaps she wouldn’t. Despite being family, she and Bethaeny weren’t all that close. They’d spent most of their childhoods in very different parts of Hayll, and had only really begun to know one another as part of Meredith’s coven. In all the years they’d served Hayll’s Queen together, Ettia had learned one thing about her cousin.

Bethaeny really had no business being here. 

She asked too many questions. Asked the _wrong_ questions. The kind that cast doubt on whether the Blood should accept the status quo that seemed only to benefit Meredith and a handful of her pet Queens. Thankfully, most of the coven shrugged them off, believing Bethaeny stupid on account of her rural upbringing. They merely laughed at her behind her back…or to her face if they were feeling especially spiteful. 

Better than the alternative.

If any of them realized that her cousin wasn’t an idiot, and that her questions were serious ones, life in Draega would be much worse. For both of them. Ettia feared that Valinna had already worked it out, and that _she_ was somehow behind Meredith’s suspicious generosity. She didn’t trust the Black Widow any more than the Queen. Possibly _less_. And if Valinna saw Bethaeny’s questions as the threat they truly were, the witch wouldn’t hesitate to have her eliminated.

_It’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before._

More times than Ettia cared to think about. She’d stood in that room to witness Meredith’s _demonstrations_ a few times a year. The addition of _safframate_ for today’s session was new, but she’d seen Valinna use her Black Widow craft during an interrogation to tear down a witch’s barriers. In truth, she’d seen far _worse_ done in that room. Things that sometimes haunted her dreams in the form of terrifying nightmares.

Ettia told herself she ought to be grateful that she wasn’t here during the early days of Meredith’s rule; they had been far bloodier. To hear tales of it from Seren and Idrina, they were as bloody as the decade following the Purge. Meredith had slaughtered witches and warlords alike in the hundreds. Of course, neither witch had actually _seen_ any of that. None of the first circle had, as not one of the Queen’s initial coven had survived.

_Except Valinna._

Another reason she didn’t trust the witch. How was it that Valinna alone escaped unscathed? Not for the first time did Ettia wonder _exactly_ what sort of dynamic existed between Queen and Black Widow. Meredith may wear the dominant Jewels, but Valinna had her particular Black Widow craft on her side. Hard to tell which of them actually held the upper hand.

None of that was helping her solve her immediate concerns about keeping DeSade away from the coven. Ettia figured if she was on point for that task, she wasn’t getting any rest of the next few days. Might as well forget spending any time in her suite altogether and stake out the best place to keep watch. Really, she ought to return to the corridor outside DeSade’s suite if she hoped to have any chance of intercepting him.

But that would mean she’d be within earshot of the Prince’s bedroom. Doubtful that he’d bother with aural shields. In fact, the Prince would likely make a concerted effort to ensure that sounds from within carried throughout the hall. Ettia couldn’t bring herself to listen to it. Traitor or not- and that’s if she believed the accusations in the first place- _no_ witch deserved DeSade’s particular brand of torture.

_And without the threat of retaliation from the Ring,_ she couldn’t help reminding herself. _Encouraged to do anything short of killing the witch._

* * *

**3/Terreille**

“You worry over nothing, Valinna.”

The Black Widow sat quietly for a moment, thoughtful. She’d been one of the first witches to help Meredith on her rise to power, using her Jewels and particular craft to help protect her against the strong blood males who might have broken her before she was gifted with the Gray. And it had been Valinna who had taught her about the Ring of Obedience. She’d come up with ways of keeping the younger Queens and witches in line.

So while Meredith didn’t completely _trust_ any witch, Valinna was someone she could count on. Together, they’d rebuild Hayll after that damned Purge nearly destroyed the Blood. They shared the same vision for Terreille. That’s what mattered, and was why she was willing to listen to what the witch would say.

“Should we be worried that the Prince is beyond our control?”

“I think tonight will show us how to turn that problem around,” Meredith countered with confidence. Unfortunately, Valinna didn’t buy it.

“I’m more convinced that it will only make things worse. We have to discuss our options now, while there’s still time.”

“Time for _what_? What exactly are you getting at?”

She didn’t like the long pause that followed her question. The longer it stretched on, the more she dreaded what the Black Widow would say. As it turned out, her apprehension was not without merit. She listened in shocked horror as Valinna delivered her reply.

“Like it or not, the Prince may have outlived his usefulness. You might want to find a way to be rid of him before he destroys all we’ve worked for.”

After several minutes of stunned silence, Meredith protested, “I don’t believe you actually mean that.”

“I do mean it.”

“Hell’s fire, _you’re_ the one who came up with the idea of bringing him here in the first place. When Nesbeth went there to fetch him, _you_ created the illusion spells that allowed her to enter that place unnoticed.”

“I know what said. And what I did.”

“So why the change of heart now?”

“We’re not going to get what we want out of him, and the longer he’s here, the more dangerous it is for us.”

“How are you so sure we won’t? There’s time yet.”

“Six hundred years, Meredith. How long are we going to wait? It was a mistake to let him make an Offering, since now he wears a Jewel darker than yours. If that Ring of Obedience fails, he’ll _finish_ us.”

Valinna was practically vibrating from the emphasis of her tone. She believed every word, and Meredith couldn’t lie to herself that she wasn’t thinking a lot of the same lately. Especially tonight with what she was- and _wasn’t_ \- picking up from her controlling ring. But she refused to believe that their only option was to destroy him. Eventually he would break and give them what they wanted. He _had_ to.

“It’s a waste of a bloodline,” she threw back at the Black Widow in hopes of changing her mind. “There’s still a chance he might sire a child or two with the coven. He might even get the bitch he’s with now pregnant.”

“And so what if he does?”

Meredith practically gaped at the witch, jaw slack in utter stupefaction. Sure, she and Valinna had discussed their issues with DeSade from time to time, and of course the Black Widow had expressed increasing wariness about him. But this almost sounded like she was giving up on their entire plan in acquiring him. That _was_ a large part of what they’d been working for. So when she found her wits again, Meredith was quick to remind her.

“Wasn’t that the whole point? To develop a female line with that kind of power?”

“I’m beginning to think that was a mistake as well,” Valinna muttered.

No. She couldn’t have the witch pulling out of this plan _now_. Not after all the sacrifices they’d made to get DeSade here, and then the lives lost in the centuries since just to keep him contained. But Valinna kept going with her speech.

“We thought we would succeed where the others before us had failed. By starting with an infant, we thought we would have a ‘blank slate’ that could be molded to our way of thinking- before the training of his bloodline could be ingrained. Only it hasn’t worked out that way- has it?” Meredith didn’t answer, resolutely silent, as the witch pressed on. “So what if he _does_ sire offspring on this witch or any of the coven? How do we know we won’t face the same problem with _that_ child?”

She didn’t want to consider those questions, and racked her brain for some argument to discredit them. At last, she hit upon something plausible.

“It could just be the male line that is a problem. A girl might be more malleable.”

“And she might end up with Jewels darker than yours, which she could use to overthrow you.”

_Now that’s an altogether uncomfortable thought_ , Meredith admitted. She wanted a strong successor in line when she had reached old age and could no longer rule. But that was thousands of years away, and she was by no means ready to surrender the power she held before then. _Definitely don’t want to be cheated out of what is mine._

Wasn’t that why she was so eager to listen to Valinna’s suggestions about breaking stronger witches before they became a threat? None of the witches in her coven matched her Gray Jewel, and only a few wore the Sapphire. The rest were Purple-dusk and Opal with a few Green. Witches outside the coven rarely wore anything darker than Summer-sky.

So what kind of danger was she inviting if DeSade gave them a witch with the potential to wear something like the Gray or Ebon-gray? Valinna had a point that now would not be a good time to let that much power grow to adulthood. It was better not to take that risk. And she could see that Meredith was in agreement with that point.

“You see the problem.”

“Yes, the timing isn’t right just yet.”

“And again I ask you- how long are you willing to wait with a vicious killer barely chained by that bit of gold around his cock?”

Meredith hedged a moment before she replied, “I still think there’s hope that we can break him.”

Valinna shook her head, clearly not sharing that optimism. She looked uneasy, and Meredith wondered if she had seen something with her Black Widow craft that made her so outspoken on this issue. She might as well ask.

“Is there something you’ve seen that I should know about, Valinna?”

At first, she wasn’t sure the witch was going to answer her. She merely stared at her hands, rubbing one over the other absently. They sat in mutual silence for quite some time before Valinna spoke again.

“I saw something a few weeks ago that I haven’t been able to riddle out yet, but it does not sit easy.”

“And it’s about the Prince.”

“Not exactly.”

Frustrated, Meredith hissed through her teeth. Why Black Widows were always so cagey with what they said about visions was beyond her understanding. She wanted a yes or no answer, and they rarely gave one. Just like the answer she’d gotten now. So she tried again.

“What was it, exactly?”

“A black- well, darker than black- wave towering over Draega. It circled the whole city, and no one could escape. As it toppled over, the wave turned to blades that ripped apart whole districts. Not the whole city, but just parts of it.”

Having reached what seemed the end of her account, Valinna fell into silent meditation once more. Even to Meredith, who didn’t always understand the nature of tangled webs or visions, everything about what the witch had said sounded ominous. Even worse when the Black Widow admitted that even _she_ didn’t know how to interpret it. Meredith thought to ask what she hoped would be an easy question.

“Which parts of Draega?”

In a deathly whisper, Valinna answered, “The places controlled by the coven.”

She could see why that would alarm the witch; Meredith was no less alarmed. But she was the Queen, and she couldn’t afford to let any doubt or fear influence what she decided to do. And so she clutched at the ragged edges of her serenity and forged ahead as if unconcerned by what Valinna had just told her.

“I see. And you think that it may be a warning about the Prince- what he might do if he slips the leash holding him back.”

“It’s hard to say for sure. I haven’t figured out why the wave and swords weren’t Ebon-gray if they were meant to stand for the Prince.”

Another unpleasant thought struck her.

“You don’t suppose a child by the Prince could wear the Black, do you?”

“It’s possible. The line is known for very dark Jewels. We wouldn’t know the potential depth of the Jewels until the child had a Birthright Ceremony.”

“And as you said- by then it could be too late.”

* * *

**4/Terreille**

Ettia shuddered at the mental images that conjured. No, she did _not_ want to hear any of that. So she’d just have to find somewhere else that worked just as well. And while she was thinking on that very subject, Ettia heard the unmistakable sounds of footsteps approaching her swiftly from behind.

She spun around, unable to fight the irrational fear that they belonged to DeSade. Irrational because Ettia knew if that were the case, she’d _never_ have the luxury of a warning before he struck. The Prince was far more subtle than Grael or Meredith’s other pet warlords, who were just as content to walk up to a witch point blank and haul her away. And so she couldn’t help cursing herself for the lack of self-control.

“Ettia!” cried a familiar voice.

_Well, at least it was only Bethaeny._

Her cousin slowed to a stop beside her. From her determined look, she’d been combing the hallways in search of Ettia. Likely wanting to talk about what happened outside the Prince’s suite. And to apologize. Bethaeny _excelled_ at apologizing. If only she put her effort into _not_ causing trouble in the first place.

_Maybe I ought to step up and guide her along those lines rather than wait for Bethaeny to figure it out on her own._

“I thought you said you were going to your room.”

“I was- am. But first I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I know, I shouldn’t have said anything about the Prince. It put you in a bad position in front of Meredith. So, yeah, I really am sorry.”

_There it is,_ Ettia thought with a sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ward off a headache at Bethaeny’s verbal deluge. When she felt she could respond without snapping at the witch, she gestured towards the salon where Meredith and Valinna were no doubt still talking.

“Bethaeny, whether you realize it or not, you put _both_ of us in a bad position.” Now she waved a hand at her cousin. “Although _you_ were in one before this whole thing started.”

“What?”

“Just what were you expecting to happen if DeSade had come to your suite as planned tonight?”

Her cousin’s cheeks flushed, but she said nothing. Ettia waited her out until Bethaeny finally mumbled a reluctant, “Amazing sex.”

Ettia bit back the curse that wanted to force its way past her lips. Yelling at the witch wasn’t going to do any good, no matter how satisfying it might feel to give her a harsh set-down. She’d have to settle for something less gratifying, and do this the hard way.

“Walk with me,” she insisted before continuing their conversation. Bethaeny followed her lead and fell into step beside her. Only then did she begin. “You didn’t wonder at all why Meredith would loan him out to you?”

“Well, no. I-”

“Three months since _anyone_ has used him- and I’m sure you remember what happened to _her_.”

“Yes, but I’m not like Candace. And Meredith assured me that-”

“She told you whatever she wanted to get you to agree.” Bethaeny just stared at her blankly. Frustrated and knowing that she had very little time to hash this all out with her cousin, she cut to the point. “Don’t you get it?”

“Get what?”

“She was _using_ you as a test to see if DeSade was safe for the rest of us.”

Finally. A glimmer of understanding as the light turned on in her cousin’s eyes. Again, it wasn’t that she was _stupid_ …just, naïve at times. Ettia blamed her aunt, who hadn’t done much to help prepare Bethaeny for the realities of court life. Berda didn’t pay much attention to Meredith’s vision for Hayll, and since she lived on the very fringes of the territory, she could get away with that attitude.

But things were different in Draega. That ignorance- or indifference- got witches killed in the heart of Meredith’s domain. Just like it had almost gotten her cousin killed tonight.

“But what did I ever do to make her so upset with me?”

Typical Bethaeny. She always worried about hurting people’s feelings. Placed far too much importance on them in Ettia’s opinion, and so her answer came out far more brusque than she had planned. A dose of reality would be good for the witch.

“Meredith isn’t upset with you. The truth is, Bethaeny, she doesn’t care about you one way or another. She picked you because in her mind she could afford to lose you.”

“Oh,” her cousin replied in a small voice, gaze dropping to the floor.

“But if you keep saying things like you did tonight, I guarantee you that you’ll find out just what it means to have the Queen upset with you.”

“I thought I was saying the right thing,” Bethaeny replied with a shrug as the two of them arrived outside her suite. Ettia had guided them here with the aim of convincing her cousin to stay there for the night. “I’ve heard the others talk like that about using pleasure slaves, and thought that’s what Meredith would expect me to say.”

Yet another glaring reason why Bethaeny didn’t belong here. She _heard_ the words but didn’t understand _how_ and _when_ to use them. All of it just went contrary to her nature. Nothing she could fix overnight, but she hoped to pass a little advice to the witch before parting company for the night.

“It’s one thing to talk about the blood males that way, but quite another to speak about the Prince. He’s Meredith’s _private possession_.”

“I know. I understand that _now._ I just…why does it have to be so hard to know what I’m supposed to say?”

“Look, I tell you what,” Ettia offered lightly. “In a few days when all this with DeSade blows over, we’ll spend some time together. I’ll help.”

Bethaeny’s shock was evident, which made sense. Ettia rarely spent time with her cousin, especially now that she’d been promoted to the first circle. She’d wanted to disassociate herself from the witch as much as she could, just in case Bethaeny said anything that got her into trouble. So naturally, this offer would come as a surprise.

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

_Actually, I’m doing it for_ me. _I don’t need_ your _thoughtless remarks tarnishing_ my _reputation with Meredith and Valinna. Not that I intend to tell_ you _that._

“Of course,” she assured Bethaeny with a smile. “We’re family, and I want to look out for you. So if I can be of help, I’m more than happy to do so.”

“Thank you, Ettia.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I’ll catch up with you in a few days, then,” her cousin affirmed with a wave goodbye, disappearing into her room.

_If we survive that long,_ Ettia remarked silently once the door closed.

* * *

**5/Terreille**

“More than likely.”

“Well, if the Prince _does_ get the bitch pregnant, best she aborts it and we avoid finding out either way.”

Meredith had expected Valinna to agree with her right away, but the witch was merely thoughtful. Always thinking. The Black Widow almost never acted on anything without thinking first. Frustrating to Meredith more often than not, but that caution always paid off in the end. Just like it seemed to this time. A sly look flickered in the witch’s eyes for a moment or two; she had come up with a plan.

“Although…we might reconsider the benefits of having the witch keep the child. It might give us the leverage you were hoping to find.”

“Go on.”

“Maybe we’re thinking about this the wrong way. Forget breeding a line to mingle with ours right now.”

“What would we be breeding him _for_ , then?”

“A bargaining chip,” Valinna replied. “What might a Warlord Prince do to keep a child- especially _a son_ \- alive and healthy? Could he deny us what we want, knowing that we’d punish the boy in his place?”

A mean smile tugged at Meredith’s lips as she began to think of the ways she could make DeSade pay for all the trouble he’d given her. Of course, it would only work if the child was a boy. She doubted that he would care about a daughter. Even blood couldn’t change the fact that she was just another witch.

But a _son_ …oh yes, that would be an effective tool against the Prince. And she could ring the son whenever she chose as a ‘punishment’ for the crimes of the father. Wouldn’t that make him scream? Meredith envisioned him on his knees, begging- offering her _anything_ she wanted to spare his son. She wouldn’t, of course, but she knew what she would demand from him.

“Maybe we should make a gift of the bitch to him,” she mused. “To use however he wants as long as she stays alive. He’s bound to get her pregnant eventually.”

“A bit risky about the outcome, though. She may abort the child, and there wouldn’t be a second chance with her after that.”

Valinna had a point, and Meredith was regretting that there hadn’t been the opportunity to discuss this before she’d told DeSade that he could break the witch. At least if her Jewels were intact, they might’ve gotten more than one opportunity; broken witches were capable of carrying only one child to term- and even that was rare. She thought for a moment.

“So we keep dosing her with _safframate_. In that state, she won’t think about anything but letting him mount her.”

“That’s if she survives the next few days in one piece,” Valinna reminded her. “The dose we gave her was meant to shatter her Jewels and sanity. And the Prince understood that’s what you expected him to do.”

“Witches don’t need to be sane to have babies.”

_All the better if she_ isn’t _, or she might realize what we’re up to._ Not that she could do anything to prevent it without her Jewels. Or even _with_ them. But it would be easier for all of them if she was too preoccupied with the Twisted Kingdom to care about the welfare of a child. Valinna couldn’t argue against that.

“And if the child turns out to be female?”

_But I guess she’ll just find something_ else _to nitpick,_ Meredith complained. _She’s never satisfied._

“I’m sure the Prince won’t weep if we strangle it in the cradle. It would save him the trouble of doing it himself.”

“I agree that’s the safest course of action, but it does pose a potential problem with the coven, you realize. We’ve always told them that our plan was to join the bloodlines. If they discover that promise was fulfilled and _you_ destroyed it- what will you tell them _then_?”

“I’ll deal with them when and _if_ we have to worry about it. They’ll see the wisdom of the decision.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then the Prince has a few more witches to play with and I remind the rest of them that _I_ rule Hayll.”

Whatever argument Valinna was going to make was silenced after that. Even a Black Widow who’d known her for nearly a millennia was intimidated when Meredith used _that_ tone. She was the law, and she could destroy any of them whenever she chose. Or as she had said, she could simply hand them over to the Prince. That threat always cowed anyone who dared say anything against her.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Meredith.”

“We’ll see.”

Bethaeny’s fate was sealed, in any case. After the Prince had finished with the scheming bitch, Bethaeny would be next. He could have them _both_ for all Meredith cared. That was twice as much a chance they might get a son out of him. Bethaeny’s Jewels were only Opal, but as Valinna had pointed out, the strength of the child didn’t matter. It was merely the means to an end. So Meredith didn’t care if it had Jewels at all.

Belatedly, she realized that Valinna had another topic on her mind. She pulled herself out of her thoughts and tried to focus on the conversation.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I was thinking on the vision again.”

“What _now_?”

“What if…” Valinna hesitated. “What if the Black isn’t a symbol of the Prince’s potential offspring? It’s equally possible that it’s meant to represent his father. If _he_ were to know that we had the Prince, it could trigger a devastating retaliation from that direction.”

“Impossible. We both know that he’ll _never_ step foot in Hayll. None of them have been seen this side of the Tamanara Mountains since the Purge.”

“He could still find out.”

“Enlighten me how that is possible.”

“The demon dead. Suppose one of them lets slip something about the Prince when they’re in Hell? The right words in the right ears and he’ll know.”

“The demon dead,” Meredith repeated flatly. “Now you’re just being paranoid, Valinna. The witches he’s destroyed _might_ talk, but there’s never enough left of them to transition to demon dead.”

“All the same, I think it might be a wise decision to finish the kills from now on. Why take the risk?”

It was a good suggestion, even if Meredith didn’t think there was any true danger from the demon dead. After all, they’d been sending brutally tortured warlords and witches to Hell for centuries now. The High Lord hadn’t interfered with any of that. Meredith was content to think that he had washed his hands of Hayll.

“Fine. If it makes you feel easier, we’ll finish the kills,” she conceded.

“Well then, I think I’m going to get some sleep. The next few days will require concentration.”

With those words, Valinna retreated and left Meredith alone in the salon. She wondered how she was going to be patient these next few weeks. The wait would be the most difficult thing about the whole plan. But she swore that this one wouldn’t fail, and she would finally have what she wanted. She’d have DeSade under her thumb, obeying her commands without defiance.

Once she had the Prince in line, Meredith would be able to take the next step. Ruling Hayll was only the start. She’d use him to take back the other territories that should rightfully belong to her. She’d start with the weaker territories first- Challiot and the broken pieces of Shalador to name a few. Once she had them in line, she’d go after the stronger territories like Dhemlan.

Askavi, Dena Nehele and Shalador Nehele would have to be last, since they were the most connected to Kaeleer. Meredith wanted to be fully prepared before she drew any attention from the Shadow Realm. And by then, she hoped that she would own the Prince- own every part of him. How would Kaeleer fare if she held that weapon against them?

Meredith smiled again, thinking of just how they would squirm when they realized _who_ they’d have to fight if they wanted to take her down. She’d have them all in the end. All she needed was the first piece, and Meredith was certain she knew now how to get it.


	5. An Unexpected Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith's safframate situation has gotten much worse. She's been trying to fight it on her own, but Alex isn't giving up. As a result, Lilith will be forced to give him some very embarrassing and surprising news, sparking quite the internal debate for Alex. But when he makes her an offer she doesn't expect, it doesn't quite go as planned.
> 
> While those two are sorting that out, Fawne and Kareal have come to Paeter for protection. Only when he provides a potential name of a friend for Kareal, both of the witches aren't too keen about the suggestion. Fawne has some serious doubts about the Warlord, and so does her friend. But with few other options, Kareal opts to take her chances. Question is- does that decision turn out in her favor?
> 
> And that'll take us back to Alex and Lilith, who are trying to think of something else to do with their evening, now that she's rejected his initial idea. Lilith suggests that they play Cradle instead. Alex agrees, and is quickly bedeviled by the game's infuriatingly intricate rules. But by the end, he gets the hang of how to play, and turns the tables on Lilith. Even so much as to goad her into making a bet. One that he fully intends to win.

**1/Terreille**

Time passed, although Lilith hardly paid attention to it beyond counting the minutes while the _safframate_ gripped her. She tried to tell herself that they were only minutes, but the agony seemed endless. She exhaled slowly as the most recent one finally receded enough for her to think again. Small comfort there. That only led Lilith back to her conversation with the Prince. Although she didn’t want to admit it, she couldn’t deny that DeSade had been right.

The pain had indeed gotten worse, just as he predicted it would. Earlier in the evening, the spasms- though painful- had come and gone relatively quickly. In the hour or so since he’d gone to sleep, they’d gradually lengthened. Now they would last for several minutes at a time. And when they hit…Lilith had tried to suppress them, but more than one time she couldn’t stop the shuddering sobs that wracked her.

It was too late to run away from here, even if she thought DeSade wouldn’t notice her pass through the Red shield. Guaranteed that he would. But that wasn’t what kept her from leaving. In truth, she couldn’t afford to be exposed in Draega when she was this defenseless. The _safframate_ had drained her almost as bad as any moontime; she couldn’t possibly defend herself from hostile attack. And so she was stuck here until it passed- stuck here with the Prince in the next room.

He’d invited her to share that room with him. With the pain as bad as it was, she’d almost let the temptation of that offer melt her resolve. But she wouldn’t give in. Couldn’t _afford_ to give in, because turning down that path would only lead to regret. Another day or so and this would pass. Didn’t sound like a long time, but it might as well be a year for how tired she felt. Tired of fighting against the _safframate_ and just…tired. Lilith took a shaky breath and gripped the edge of an end table. _Here’s another one._

Warmth. A hand on her shoulder. Lilith bolted like a spooked horse, but the hand held her in place.

“Lilith,” she heard the Prince say from behind her. “Nothing is worth torturing yourself like this.”

_Oh hell’s fire_ , she cursed inwardly. _This is the last thing I need right now._

It really was. Despite her exhaustion, Lilith was still prepared to keep fighting this battle on her own. So long as the Prince stayed in his room and left her alone. She’d thought their previous argument had convinced him to do that, but now here he was again. And given his tone, DeSade intended to revisit the very topic she so desperately wanted to avoid. Lilith tried to derail him as best she could.

“I’ll remind you that I’m not the one who did this to me. They did.”

Didn’t deter him one bit. DeSade countered almost immediately, arguing, “But you’re the one making it worse.”

“I already told you, I can’t accept the help you’re offering.”

A pause. Lilith realized she’d made a tactical error. The Prince was too intelligent not to pick up on her choice of words, or what they could mean. Sure enough, his tone conveyed that he intended to discuss that difference when he replied, “Before, you said ‘won’t’. Now you say you can’t.”

“Same thing.”

That did not work at all. She couldn’t see it, but Lilith knew his expectant stare burned straight through her shoulder blades as he waited for a proper answer. She couldn’t bring herself to give one, nor did she look away from the wooden table. Maybe if she stalled long enough she could think of a plausible explanation- one that didn’t involve the truth. Nothing came to her, and finally, the Prince’s patience ran out.

“Nooooo, it’s not.” He turned her around and lifted her chin so that she had to meet his eyes. “So which is it?”

Caught beneath his intent, golden gaze, Lilith tried to calm the fluttering nerves in her stomach. If it hadn’t been empty, she might have thrown up. DeSade clearly expected an answer, and was prepared to stand here all night until he got it. Seeing no way out, Lilith caved.

“All right, all right. I can’t. Are you satisfied?”

“Not yet. We haven’t gotten to your reasons why.”

_Oh no, I can’t. I just can’t say that. Not to him. Not here and_ certainly _not now. Not_ ever _._

But he wasn’t going to let her go without an answer. She could see that in his expression. The _safframate_ was pulling at her, meaning Lilith was in no condition to fight him about it. If she didn’t answer him soon, she’d do far worse than spill out this particular truth- inconvenient as it was. She was on the verge of answering when DeSade prompted her again.

“Lilith?”

“I-I-” she tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. She swallowed carefully and tried again to offer an explanation. “I haven’t, um, that is to say…you see there hasn’t been a convenient time to…” Lilith trailed off in embarrassment, a blush rising in her cheeks. “Please don’t make me say it.”

* * *

**2/Terreille**

As the meaning of Lilith’s half-given explanation became clear, Alex was left stunned. Completely and utterly stunned. He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d brained him with a rock. _A virgin_. Those words warred against his disbelief that it could be true. But the longer he thought on it, the more he realized that not only was it true, but he should have guessed from the beginning.

_It all makes sense now._

Alex measured everything Lilith had said and done since they met. Her rejection of his first offer had been the most obvious by far. Even so, other telltale signs should have cued him to her condition much sooner. Her uneasiness and shyness around him, and Lilith’s attempts to escape staying in the suite. The reaction to wearing his clothes- and how rattled she got about the thought of undressing in front of him.

All very clear clues that she was _definitely_ a virgin. And one who’d been trying very hard to keep him at arm’s length. Lilith likely knew as well as he did that this was not the time for a Virgin Night, which was tricky under normal circumstances. Drugged with _safframate_ , it would almost certainly end disastrously. He wouldn’t put it past Meredith to have engineered the timing of her ‘punishment’ to take advantage of that fact.

Alex found himself in an awkward and altogether unsettling position. Knowing Lilith was a virgin hadn’t doused the desire to take her to bed. Quite the opposite, to his mortification. He caught himself thinking about what it might be like to be the first- to be _her_ first. She’d be his in a way that she wouldn’t be for any other man. A memory Alex could hold onto in the never-ending years ahead of him in Meredith’s clutches.

Caught off-guard by those thoughts, he tried to bring himself back to reality with a stern self-lecture.

_Do you hear yourself? This is a witch._

 _Lilith’s different,_ some part of him argued back.

 _Maybe not a bitch like Meredith and her coven, but she’s still just a witch. And you’re still a ringed pleasure slave. You don’t get to claim anything for yourself- and you_ never _will. Even if you did, she’s the_ last _thing you should want._

_You’re wrong._

_Wrong about what,_ Alex queried dismissively.

_About everything._

Something about the vehemence in those words cut through him. Scared him. And so he backed away from the internal debate to avoid facing whatever they might mean. Far more productive to stay focused on the situation at hand, rather than to tread down that path of make-believe. Lilith helped in that respect, once again caught in a drug-induced spasm.

Obviously, she couldn’t keep on like this. The question was, what to do about it. Lilith, it seemed, had decided that their discussion was over. She leaned away from him and tried to take a step backward.

“Look, if it’s all the same to you, can we just forget all of this?”

As much as he wanted to do just that, Alex couldn’t. He shook his head and answered, “No.”

“No?” she repeated warily.

“No.”

“But…there’s no point,” she sputtered in protest. “I already told you I can’t possibly…I just can’t.”

He knew he wasn’t going to change her mind about sex. Nor was it his intent to try. And so Alex weighed their remaining options before coming up with one that he deemed a fair compromise.

“There are a lot of things we could do without crossing that line.”

Lilith’s knees gave way. If he hadn’t been standing so close, she would have collapsed; only the speed of his reflexes caught her before she fell to the floor. The second she was steadied, however, Lilith was pushing him away. Alex released her immediately, allowing her to retreat a fair distance away as she regarded him with an expression of incredulous shock.

“Have you lost your mind? Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“You said you were a virgin. But surely you’ve-”

“I’ve never done _any_ of this before.”

And that was the _second_ time she’d caught him by surprise. At her age- which he put at two or three centuries at most- Alex expected Lilith to have _some_ experience with men. Odd that she’d avoided sex, but no experience _at all_? Unheard of in a territory like Hayll, where witches learned how to toy with blood males by the time they had their Birthright Ceremonies.

_So how did Lilith escape those lessons- and more importantly…_ why _?_ Both were questions that Alex doubted she would answer if he asked. He set them aside as his thoughts moved into an idea far more dangerous. _Perhaps it’s time she learned them, and who better to be her teacher?_ Alex tried to stop himself, but it was already too late.

“Maybe now’s a good time to start,” he suggested while raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t joke about something like this.” Her voice shook. “Don’t you _dare_.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Yeah, well, that may be, but I’m telling you it’s still not happening.”

Lilith’s tone was deathly, expression closed and strained. She was prepared to fight this, _safframate_ be damned. Arguing with her would do no good- not even if he spent all night. Which left him with one last weapon in his arsenal that could possibly melt her resolve. Only he’d already been down that road before, and his mind hadn’t changed. Alex refused to coerce her in _that_ way like he had with the coven bitches; if she agreed, he wanted it to be because _she_ wanted to.

Oh the irony. Meredith and her trained bitches had spent centuries wanting- and having- him. They would have sacrificed _anything_ if even once he’d admitted that he had enjoyed it. Now he actually _wanted_ a witch to want him, and she refused to do it.

But it wasn’t the same thing, was it? The other witches- all they wanted was to use his body and to say that they had control of him. They didn’t want the Warlord Prince or the man that was _him_ , preferring to ignore what they couldn’t admit they feared. _That’s_ what he caught himself wishing Lilith wanted. Setting aside the danger of even _having_ that kind of wish, Alex wondered if he was hoping for the impossible.

If witches who wore Red and Gray were afraid, he held little hope that a witch who wore no Jewels at all might accept the kind of Warlord Prince he was. Hell’s fire, she didn’t even know he wore Jewels darker than the Red and she was already shying away from him. What would she do if she knew he wore Jewels darker than Meredith’s…Jewels darker than any Blood known to ever live in Hayll?

Alex knew what she’d do; she’d run. He sighed dispiritedly and gave up pursuing the conversation _. Just as well._

“So now what?”

* * *

**3/Terreille**

Paeter glanced over his shoulder to the tiny room he called his own, clearly thinking that she meant they both intended to stay with him. Needless to say, his offer wasn’t the most enthusiastic he could have given them.

“I suppose if you felt uneasy about staying in the servant wing you could spend the night here.” He shrugged. “Bit cramped, I’ll warn you, but I doubt Meredith and the coven bitches will come down this way tonight. Not after what Cassel did.”

“I’d be more than happy to take you up on that offer,” Fawne replied with a wink. “But I think Kareal just came with me because I told her you might know someone. A friend of yours who might be willing to let her stay with _him_ , perhaps?”

Oh the look on Paeter’s face. His relief was so palpable that she almost couldn’t hold in her laughter. A half-stifled chuckle managed to escape, none-the-less, earning her an aggrieved sigh from him. But Paeter let it pass without comment as he turned his attention to her friend, who was hovering at Fawne’s heels and fidgeting nervously.

“Interesting that you should ask, since I’ve been meaning to bring it up myself.”

“Oh?”

“You know Dahlen?”

“Uh huh,” she answered, wondering why he’d bring _that_ name up.

Of course she knew Dahlen. Nearly every witch serving in the hall had heard of him. He was Idrina’s current favorite, and had been since he arrived. Of the pleasure slaves in residence, his Jewels were the darkest- except for DeSade- having made his Offering before he was ringed. His Purple Dusk out-ranked Fawne’s own Jewels, and she considered hers very dark for anyone serving Meredith’s coven.

That alone would have given any witch enough reason to be careful in how she interacted with the Warlord; his sharp-edged temper and hostility made him even less approachable. She wasn’t sure if he hated all witches, or just the ones like Meredith and Idrina, but she couldn’t afford to find out which theory was true. And so like most of the other serving witches, Fawne opted in favor of keeping her distance.

“He’s been asking me to talk to you. About your friend.”

“About me,” Kareal squeaked.

“Yes, you.”

“But I’m…” her face reddened, clearly self-conscious. She shook her head and began again. “I’m sure I don’t have anything that could interest someone like him.”

“You’d be wrong, then,” Paeter told her with a bemused shrug. “Because he _is_ interested.”

“But _why_?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

Kareal chewed on her bottom lip, clearly debating whether or not to abandon the whole idea. Fawne wouldn’t blame her for having second thoughts. Knowing Dahlen’s pointed dislike for witches, she could well imagine him looking for someone weaker. A witch he could hurt in ways he couldn’t when he was servicing Idrina. And for Kareal, whose rank Jewels were Tiger Eye, he could easily overpower or even break her if he wanted to.

*Paeter, is he safe?* she risked sending on a private thread. Ringed males didn’t use psychic communication often, as the coven tended to monitor it. But she needed to get answers from him, and didn’t want to discuss it aloud. *I’ve seen how he is around witches- you’re _sure_ she’d be all right with him?*

*It’s not what you think*

*What’s _that_ supposed to mean?*

*I’ll explain later, but just know that I vouch for him, Fawne. Nothing to worry about, I promise*

If Paeter was confident enough to promise Kareal’s safety, then she was willing to trust him on this. Fawne knew that the pleasure slaves would say things to one another that they wouldn’t admit in front of a witch. She glanced to her friend.

“What do you think? Paeter wouldn’t recommend him if he had any concerns.”

After thinking for several long minutes, the witch nodded.

“All right.”

Paeter stepped out into the hall and shepherded them down a ways to another door. Very quietly, he rapped his knuckles against the wood in a distinct rhythm. A secret knock. Blood males serving in the hall used them to communicate with one another. They had different knocks for warnings or reminders- even for a general greeting. Fawne had learned a few, but didn’t know the meaning of this particular one.

The three of them waited in the hallway, each casting nervous looks to either end. Expecting at any moment to be caught by someone in the coven. A minute or so later, they heard the sounds of movement on the other side of the door. Kareal kept well behind Fawne, obviously still not sure about meeting the Warlord. But for good or bad, the decision was made.

“Paeter,” Dahlen greeted him, largely ignoring Fawne and Kareal. “I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight.”

“I wouldn’t have disturbed you so late, but it’s important.”

“What’s important?”

“Grael. The whole upset with him has the witches on edge. They came seeking an alternative place to spend the night.”

Dahlen’s expression visibly hardened, his golden gaze sharp as he demanded with icy politeness, “Which witches?”

A hand clutched the back of Fawne’s sleeve and tugged. She risked a backward glance to see Kareal’s wide-eyed stare, silently begging her to get them out of here. She wanted to do just that, but had to trust that Paeter knew what he was doing.

“There’s no need for that tone. Not unless you want to scare her off from the start. Believe me, you’ll regret it.”

“Will I?”

Paeter leaned closer to whisper in a hushed voice, “Dahlen, it’s Kareal.”

The mention of her friend’s name completely transformed Dahlen’s expression. If Fawne hadn’t seen it for herself she might have thought she was looking at two different men. Gone was the cold-eyed, indifferent stare, replaced by a yearning that softened his features and gave her a glimpse of who he might have been before Meredith got her hands on him.

Only then did Dahlen really look at her. Rather he looked beyond her, to where Kareal cowered nervously in her shadow. He muttered a curse under his breath- probably directed at himself.

“Forgive me, ladies,” he apologized in a louder voice. “I spoke without thinking.”

Since Kareal was too unnerved to answer, Fawne replied for both of them.

“We understand, Warlord. And Kareal and I don’t want to impose, either, so if you’d prefer we left, I’m sure I could find-”

“ _No_ ,” he protested emphatically. Far louder than he intended, she guessed, for his next words were spoken with less force. “Please don’t go.”

The words might have been directed at her, but the Warlord’s eyes were on Kareal. Paeter hadn’t lied about his interest; she could read it plain as day. And yet she felt a duty to her friend to make sure she’d be all right. If Kareal had changed her mind and would rather take her chances on her own tonight, she had the right to make that choice. Fawne turned to the witch and met her gaze.

“You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. But either way, you’ll have to make up your mind quickly. We can’t stand out here all night.”

She thought she heard Dahlen holding his breath as they waited for her reply.

“I’ll stay.”

“You’re sure?” Kareal nodded. “Okay. Paeter and I have to go.”

*Send me word if he does anything you don’t want him to do* she sent on a distaff thread.

*I’ll be fine, Fawne, but…thanks*

And that was that. Paeter took her hand and drew her back to his room. Fawne managed only one last glance at her friend as she passed through the threshold of Dahlen’s door and he closed it behind her.

_I hope I haven’t made a mistake._

* * *

**4/Terreille**

Now what, indeed? That was a good question. Lilith really didn’t have an answer for it, but she was grateful that the Prince had given up on his idea that they should do anything about her lack of experience. A temptation best left unexplored, even without the _safframate_. Of course, if not for the current circumstances, he wouldn’t have offered at all. 

Made it easy not to accept. Well, easier. Nothing about the decisions she had to make could be called easy. Straightforward would be the better word, she supposed. But turning him down would be far more difficult if she thought he might be offering out of desire; Lilith tried not to feel sorry for herself that she needn’t ever worry about what she’d do then.

Pushing those regrets aside, she tried to think of something else to pass the unending hours before morning. An idea came to her, and she felt herself smile for the first time since seeing him. DeSade eyed her warily, obviously unnerved by whatever she was going to suggest.

“That look does not bode well,” he said.

“Well, I have an idea of a way to pass the time if you’re not tired,” Lilith admitted, trying to sound innocent. “But I’m not sure you’d enjoy it.”

“And why would that be?”

She smiled again, remembering the last time she’d had an evening to do something other than work. It had ended with several males swearing that they’d find some other means of occupying her time from then on. Lilith called in the cards and game pieces she carried with her, even in Terreille. The Prince looked at them in disbelief, and then back to her.

“A _game_? What in the name of Hell could put _that_ look on your face about a game?”

“It’s called Cradle. Witches have been playing it for a long time. But the rules of the game drive blood males crazy, and they don’t always find it fun to play.”

“What _kind_ of rules?”

Lilith shrugged. “Well, since you asked…”

A half hour or so passed before she’d finished explaining the game to him. In addition to the basic rules, Lilith told him every variation of the game she knew. All except one, that is; no need to _hand_ him twenty-seven from the outset. 

“I think you’re right,” DeSade agreed with a dubious look. “There’s something off about this game that defies logical rules.”

“I hear that from blood males all the time, so your complaint doesn’t surprise me at all.”

As they set the pieces on the board for the opening moves, he regarded her in contemplation before asking, “Just curious, but where did you learn this game? It’s definitely not played in Hayll.”

Lilith knew that only too well. Not since before Dorothea had wrested control of the territory. Maybe longer than that. But it wasn’t so much its fall into obscurity that bothered her as much as the reasons why. She couldn’t quite keep the disappointment and anger out of her voice when she finally replied.

“It used to be. But it’s been a long time since witches here have found games that didn’t involve a human life interesting.”

DeSade raised an eyebrow at the snarl in her tone, but merely returned to his original question.

“So, if not Hayll- where _is_ it played?”

Far better if he’d kept on the subject of Hayll. Lilith knew where this line of inquiry would lead, and did not look forward to it. She suppressed a sigh as she gave him an answer that she hoped would end the discussion.

“They’ve started playing it in some of the other territories- Askavi, Challiot and a few of the others.”

“So are you from one of those territories, then?”

_Obviously that didn’t work, did it?_

“No, I’m not,” Lilith replied shortly as she made an opening move on the board. Her eyes remained fixed on the pieces, but she could see him studying her in her peripheral vision.

“You’re not going to tell me where you’re from, are you?”

“Not today.”

The Prince made a move of his own and frowned. She couldn’t tell if he was frowning at the cards he’d drawn, or at what she’d said. Hopefully, the tone of her reply would be enough to keep him from asking her about where she was from. Questions like that were too dangerous to answer openly until they were away from here- away from Meredith and on the journey home. 

“You are the most unusual witch I’ve ever met,” he said finally.

“Ah well,” she replied with a wry smile. “I’ve heard that said about me before. I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

Lilith looked at the cards in her hand, and saw a move that would pretty much guarantee her the win. She made it, and watched for his reaction. It took DeSade only a minute to realize that he would be fighting a losing battle for the rest of the game, and had a very slim chance of overcoming her advantage. He growled.

“And males play this game willingly where you’re from?”

“Yep.”

“Are they crazy?”

“I wouldn’t say crazy. My friends tell me that they turn losses to their advantage.”

“How do they do that?”

Lilith waited for him to make his next move and got up from the table to pace a while. The _safframate_ had her in its grip again, and she needed to move in order to stay focused. The Prince watched her from where he sat. He didn’t agree with her choice of how to deal with it, but didn’t voice his objections aloud, thank the Darkness. When the spasm passed, Lilith picked up her cards again and thought of how to answer his question.

“I’ve been told they use sympathy over their repeated losses to barter their way out of tasks they don’t want to do. Or to get something they want.” DeSade’s slightly confused expression led her to think of an example. “Okay, so let’s say he loses six games and his lady wants to play again. He might agree on the condition that he won’t have to stand as her escort to a play he doesn’t want to see. That sort of thing.”

He considered her words as he made another move on the board- one that sealed his loss in the game. DeSade seemed to be more focused on what she had said than his strategy. She wasn’t sure that she’d really helped him understand at all. Most of the concepts were completely outside anything he’d ever experienced while living in Hayll. Lilith was about to try again when he spoke up.

“Wherever it is you’re from, Lilith, I wish I could see it. Because that sounds very different from what it’s like in Hayll.”

_All in good time, Prince. Very shortly, you’ll get your wish. If all goes as planned._ Lilith said none of that aloud, and they continued to play. When it was over and he lost- as she knew he would- she shrugged.

“That’s Cradle for you. Had enough?”

“No,” DeSade said, surprising her. “We’re going to play this until I win.”

Lilith couldn’t resist a jest at his expense.

“If I heard right earlier, Meredith only gave you a few days. I hope you can figure out a way to win by then.”

“Did you just…”

“Yep.”

“Set up the board. We’re going to play until I make you take back that smartass comment.”

And play they did. Lilith found that the game helped keep her mind focused on something other than the _safframate_ for a while. Not perfectly, of course. It still wrung her breathless with a merciless grip every so often. During those times, there was nothing to do but pace and stare vacantly ahead. But the few moments in between those fits were almost bearable. 

The Prince took his continued losses with grace, but she could see that he was piecing together how the game worked. It was well past four in the morning when a look crossed his face that made her pause. 

“I think this time I’ve found a way to beat you, Lilith. We’re going to play a different variation.” 

It was his deal, and he began setting up the board. As he did so, he explained to her how he intended the pieces and cards to interact. Didn’t take long for her to recognize it, and she couldn’t stop herself from whispering, “Variation twenty-seven.”

* * *

**5/Terreille**

Alex heard the hushed whisper and raised an eyebrow. Variation twenty-seven. So, it had a name already. Meaning Lilith had already known about it before they’d started playing. Interesting.

“I take it that you’ve played this variation.”

Lilith shook her head. “Never played it myself.”

“But you’ve heard of it.”

“Yes.”

“And you failed to mention it before because?”

A guilty look flashed across Lilith’s face before she mumbled, “I was rather hoping you wouldn’t figure out that the game could be played this way.”

“Looks like I did.”

“Yes, seems so.”

That he _had_ figured it out meant something. Alex was sorely tempted to ask her why, but he had the feeling she’d dodge the question. Just like she’d dodged so many others this evening. So for now, he’d let it pass. Instead, he threw her a confident smile.

“Well, I think I’m finally going to pay you back for that remark earlier. Just try to work your sideways female logic on this. I guarantee you won’t win.”

Lilith stared at the board and sighed heavily. 

“I resent the term ‘sideways logic’, but I will concede that it will be a challenge to beat. This version was invented over eight hundred years ago and witches have yet to find a way around it.”

Eight hundred years. Back in the days before the Purge scoured Hayll, when Dorothea and Hekatah had ruled Terreille. Alex could hardly conceive of the idea that such a game had survived that long, and where in the realm it could have been played in those days. Or who would have been playing it. Yet another mysterious clue to add to his puzzle. And another one he had to set aside.

“Well, then I say my odds are very good it won’t happen tonight.”

“We’ll see,” she answered back with a smirk. “In all that time, I haven’t played it for myself.”

“So you’ll single-handedly rout a variation that no other witch has beaten in almost a millennia?”

“I guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”

Alex couldn’t help being amused. If he set aside the _safframate_ complications, the night wasn’t all bad. It was a unique experience to see a witch as a person instead of prey- and to be seen as a person himself. He had a suspicion that for Lilith, this was not quite so unique. What kind of territory did she come from if this was normal? And why in the name of Hell did she leave it for a place like Draega? That piece of the puzzle made no sense at all to him.

Lilith stared at the board, and then back at the cards in her hand before making a move. Oh yes, this time he was definitely going to win. Alex pounced on the opportunity he saw to block her opening, and cast her a triumphant look.

“Seems to me that you’re not starting out so well.”

“It’s early yet.”

She pushed her piece across the board, and then stood abruptly. Alex watched as the _safframate_ gripped her again, every muscle tense. The spasms had gotten more frequent during their last game, and were getting worse. But she’d continued to deflect any attempt to bring up the subject of relieving that tension.

“Lilith?”

“It’ll pass,” she snarled, voice strained by the effort to keep focused. “Are you going to move or what?”

“They’re getting worse and you know it.”

“I said _it’ll pass_!”

Why did he bother arguing with her? Lilith was not going to see reason about this. Alex sighed and moved his own piece. As she paced, he thought of what she’d said about the times she’d played against blood males in her home territory. Maybe there was a way to work this to his advantage by making a wager against the outcome. Lilith sat down again, exhaustion plain on her face. No better time to see if this idea would work.

“I’ve got a deal for you, Lilith.”

“What _sort_ of deal?”

By the tone in her voice, he knew she didn’t trust his offer in the slightest. Lilith obviously expected some catch in what sounded like an innocuous suggestion- as well she should. Alex sought to persuade her to agree to it, anyway.

“You think you can be the one to beat this variation, don’t you?” He set his cards down and leaned over the table; she drew back in response. “Why don’t we see how confident you are and lay a bet.”

“And the stakes you’re proposing?”

“You win and we drop the subject entirely about the _safframate_. Not another word.”

Lilith wasn’t fooled by the attractiveness of her end of the deal. Her eyes narrowed as she queried warily, “And if you win?”

“You reconsider my suggestion.”

Silence fell over the table for several minutes as she stared at her cards and shuffled them around. He could almost see her turning over each strategy she could pursue in the game, and the debate whether it would win. On one hand, he wondered if he ought to be insulted. Was the thought of any physical interaction with him truly that repugnant to her? 

But then if she didn’t think she had a chance, Alex doubted that she’d risk taking the bet at all. It wouldn’t matter either way. He was sure she couldn’t win.

“Waiting for your answer, you know.”

“Do you have someplace else to be? I’m thinking.”

“I think you’re not so sure you can make good on your boast and that’s why you won’t answer me. You know you’re going to lose,” he taunted.

“Oooooh, you think you’re so damned clever, don’t you? Fine, it’s a bet.”

And that’s how it was done. He knew if he got her temper riled, she’d snap back and agree. Now it was just a matter of winning the game. He made his next move and flashed her a look of challenge.

“May the best player win.”

* * *

**6/Terreille**

_I hope I haven’t made a mistake,_ Kareal thought as the door closed behind her.

She was alone with a Warlord she didn’t know. One who wore Purple Dusk Jewels and whose reputation for hating witches made him almost as dangerous as DeSade. Certainly the greater danger to her in this given moment; Dahlen could do whatever he wanted to her. Even if she tried to send a message to Fawne, she couldn’t hope that her friend could do anything to help her.

_So why did I agree to this?_

“Kareal?”

_I shouldn’t have agreed to this._

“Kareal?”

_I should have told Fawne I changed my mind. I-_ the brush of fingertips on her shoulder wrenched Kareal out of her thoughts with a breathless shriek. Dahlen’s hand jerked away, as if he’d been burned.

“I’m sorry. I frightened you. Again.” He cast his eyes down to the floor and mouthed a few choice words before adding, “I truly don’t mean to.”

“I’m okay.”

“No you’re not.”

She supposed she shouldn’t have tried to lie. Of course he would have been able to tell that she was scared witless. Probably didn’t even need the help of his Jewels to do it, either. He’d know just by looking at her. So what did she do now?

“You really don’t have to stay,” he told her quietly.

Kareal might have taken him up on the offer of escape if not for the sadness and regret she heard in Dahlen’s voice. Mustering her courage, she dared look at him directly. His gaze was still trained on the ground, which gave her a minute to really study him. This close, she noticed things she hadn’t before.

He was much younger than her initial impressions of him had led her to believe. In Hayll, you didn’t ever ask anyone about their age. No one wanted to be reminded of how many years they’d lived through this nightmare- or how many they had left. Blood males, especially. And with the grimly hostile expression Dahlen wore all the time, Kareal always assumed he was close to five or six hundred years old. Looking at him now, she wondered if he was even as old as Fawne.

_Life in Draega is so hard on them. Much harder than it is for us._

A lot of witches might try to argue against that view, but they’d be wrong. True, Hayll was a dangerous place for a witch, but she could survive if she knew how to play the game. She had rules she could follow that would allow her to survive this place. The same wasn’t true for blood males. They had no escape from the horror Meredith and her pet Queens inflicted upon them. Could do everything by the rules, only to end up tortured, broken or worse at the whim of any one of those bitches.

Kareal had seen it happen many times over, but one memory stood out more clearly than the rest. She and a neighbor boy, Aeren, had been friends as children, remaining close after going through their Birthright ceremonies. He’d been a kind person, looking out for her and her mother- even after the coven bitches took over her parents’ district and started changing things. Neither of them had liked the changes, but he’d done his best to obey the rules to stay out of trouble with the new Queen.

Then one day he was gone. Disappeared sometime just before their hundredth birthday.

The next time she saw Aeren, he was attending one of Queen Olivia’s bitches. Ringed. By then, everyone knew what went on in the courts. The whispered stories of outright torture and abuse. But Kareal didn’t see him any differently- that he could still count on her as a friend. Their eyes met from across the street, and she’d offered a tiny smile; in return, he flashed her an icy glare.

_As if we’d never been friends at all._

Several months later, Kareal heard Aeren had been executed. The details of what he’d suffered leaked throughout the district, and she’d been horrified to learn what those bitches had done to him. Nor did she believe the official explanation they received from Olivia, who claimed that he’d murdered an innocent witch in cold blood. Kareal was more inclined to believe the rumor that Aeren had fought one of the coven witches who’d dosed him with _safframate_. Fought and killed her.

In some ways, Dahlen reminded her of Aeren. But where her friend had chosen the path of self-destruction, Dahlen had done whatever he needed to do to survive. Like so many of them did. For some reason, that revelation helped ease her apprehension. At least enough that Kareal could breathe again.

“Kareal?” Dahlen crossed the room to set his hand on the door. “Were you wanting to leave?”

Feeling braver than usual, she joined him. But when he would have released the handle to pull it open, Kareal laid her hand atop his.

“No.”

Dahlen’s surprise swept through her, and she didn’t break eye contact when his gaze sought hers. They stood that way for a long time before either of them said anything more.

“You don’t have to worry about being here,” he assured her. Kareal couldn’t help being somewhat dubious, which prompted him to continue. “I know…I know what you’re probably thinking. What you’ve heard about me. But I’d never hurt you, Kareal. And I’m not expecting anything from you.”

She believed him.

But that did leave the question of just what she _should_ expect tonight. From a cursory look around, the closet-sized room really wasn’t meant to accommodate visitors. Definitely not an overnight one. Aside from the bed, it contained no other furniture- like a chair or sofa- that she could curl up on. Dahlen must have seen the unspoken question.

“It’s not the greatest, but you’re welcome to it. The bed, that is.”

“But what about-”

“I can manage.”

“But-”

“Really. I’m just glad to be of help.”

Kareal didn’t really know what to say or how to interpret his behavior. Dahlen seemed to think nothing of giving up his bed to her, and wanted nothing in exchange. As he’d put it- she needed help and he was offering to provide it in any way he could. And from his earnest expression, Dahlen believed it to be the only course of action. She might have been tempted to call it second nature.

_What would Draega have been like if_ this _was how the Queens had viewed what it was to serve?_

In the midst of that thought, Kareal heard herself protest, “I can’t kick you out of your own bed!”

“I don’t mind.”

The thought of letting him sleep standing or on the floor didn’t sit right with her, and sparked her temper. Enough that she didn’t pause to think.

“Well I do,” she countered with a light snarl.

That caught them both by surprise. Kareal couldn’t believe she’d actually argued with him. A Purple Dusk Warlord. And over him doing something considerate for her.

_I must be insane._

She expected Dahlen to be angry. Furious, even. But inexplicably, he broke into a grin and laughed.

_Maybe_ he’s _insane,_ she amended.

“I’ll have to tell Paeter that I won our wager,” he declared, still chuckling to himself. “He said you’d never raise your voice to anyone- let alone me- and that I should just give up. But I knew you could do it.”

_Yep, definitely insane._

“I don’t understand. You… _want_ me to argue with you?”

He took both her hands in his, interlacing their fingers.

“Yes.”

“But… _why?_ ”

“You’re willing to stand your ground- even when you’re at a disadvantage. It’s the fire of a true witch, and I could see you had it from the minute I first met you. I knew then you were the one for me, Kareal.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words, heated by a different kind of fire. She’d never heard herself described like that before. Few blood males saw her as anything more than a tolerable option to satisfy their desires. Pursued only if more attractive or darker-jeweled witches weren’t available. But from the tone in Dahlen’s voice, this went even beyond wanting. Fawne had tried to explain it to her when she spoke about Paeter. It hadn’t made sense then.

It did now.

“Well, then,” she answered when she could find her voice. “I hope you have a better idea than your last one, because I’m not changing my mind.”

Dahlen’s smile broadened.

“Oh, I can definitely come up with a more satisfying alternative.”

* * *

**7/Terreille**

The game had gone on for a very long time- longer than she’d ever seen. Maybe it wouldn’t have gone on quite so long if not for the frequent breaks in the game play. The _safframate_ was getting worse. It wasn’t just spasms now, having intensified by degrees until the drug held her body in its unrelenting grip. Lilith played half of the game standing because she couldn’t bear sitting still anymore.

For his part, DeSade said nothing about any of it. On the other hand, he was playing with a ruthless determination to win. Lilith had fought with an equal amount of determination to thwart him. She couldn’t afford to lose. Hell’s fire, she shouldn’t have agreed to the bet in the first place, but damn him for baiting her temper that way. She’d snapped her answer before really thinking about it, and then it was too late to take it back.

They had only a few moves left, and Lilith knew her chances were slim to none. One mislaid card and she’d lose- lose more than just the game. The _safframate_ closed in on her again, making it difficult to think. She stared at the three cards in her hand and willed herself not to lose focus again. Just a little longer. A little longer. While she repeated those words in her head, the Prince interrupted her train of thought.

“Well?”

She laid her card and moved her piece. DeSade frowned, obviously annoyed that she’d successfully parried his last move. He thumbed through his cards and studied the board for a long time. In between minutes, Lilith concentrated on breathing. Another feverish shiver raced through her and she paced the room to distract herself. 

_When this is over, I’m going to ache all over._

Finally, he moved his piece on the board. Lilith edged back to the table and considered her cards. A glimmer of hope; he’d made a glaring tactical mistake and must not have realized it. She very nearly sighed in relief, knowing that she had the means to win.

_And also the means to lose._

Two cards. One choice. Play the wrong card first and she would lose the game; hold it back and wait for the final turn, and she would win. The entire outcome of the game depended upon which side of that choice she would take. And for a few seconds, Lilith contemplated whether she could play out a losing strategy. DeSade would never know she’d done it intentionally. Her hand hovered over the card.

_I can’t._

Ignoring an unpleasant tang of regret, Lilith withdrew the second card and laid it on the table. The Prince stared at it, shaking his head incredulously.

“That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not. And I think I know what card you have left to play.”

“It’s not possible,” he repeated, but laid down his card to make his final move.

Lilith made hers- the winning one.

In that moment, she should have felt elated that she’d managed to do something witches had been trying to achieve for centuries. She’d won against variation twenty-seven, and guaranteed that DeSade wouldn’t renew any offer that would tempt her to do anything stupid for the rest of the night. But she didn’t; her victory was hollow.

The Prince gathered up the cards, saying nothing. Lilith wasn’t sure what to do about that, either. Finally, she ventured a comment.

“I’m guessing that was the last game.”

“It’s late,” he said flatly. “I should have been asleep hours ago.”

_Why does that sound like it’s_ my _fault he isn’t?_ She supposed that it was. If she’d managed to elude him earlier tonight, she wouldn’t even be in DeSade’s suite to begin with. No need to be awake this late. But still, Lilith had thought that maybe he hadn’t found the experience to be too unpleasant once they’d begun playing Cradle. Even thought he might have been having a good time. _Or maybe he’s just a sore loser._

“Good night, Lilith.”

“Good night.”

With that, he rose and left for his room without a backward glance. Lilith was glad he didn’t turn around, since she wasn’t sure what expression she wore. A nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered that she’d just made a mistake and ruined something. But then, this whole night was filled with one mistake after another. Everything she’d come here to do had gone horribly wrong.

Night faded into morning as the hours crawled by. Lilith hardly noticed the time or whether or not DeSade had resurfaced. She hadn’t gotten any sleep at all, and continued to pace the room with ferocious energy. Maybe once during that whole time, she’d managed to call in some food. Enough to keep her going, anyway. 

But that was at least an hour ago- or more. Lilith didn’t really know. At this point, she was aware of only the inexorable need that throbbed and burned through her. Even the light brush of the silk shirt was torture. And if she’d been able to think, she might have taken that off for what small relief that would give her. Wouldn’t have even cared what DeSade might think of that.

By mid-afternoon, she didn’t even remember that she was in the Prince’s suite. Her world had narrowed to the task of putting one foot in front of the other. As she did so, Lilith shook constantly from the stress of trying not to feel and feeling too much. She’d tried to eat again, but nothing had stayed down. More than once, she worried that this might actually break her. 

Not her Jewels. Those would survive this. But that the _safframate_ would crack her grip on her sanity and she might slide into the Twisted Kingdom. If that happened…may the Darkness have mercy on the Blood. So she fought it, clinging to the cliff of sanity by her fingernails. Just a little while longer. The worst would pass soon.

But as the afternoon drifted back into evening again, it seemed like the torture would never end. Lilith was too exhausted to pace anymore, and collapsed to her knees near the window. She didn’t remember having called in the dress she’d been wearing, but she must have at some point. In her next lucid moment, she noted that nearly half of it was now scattered in shredded strips on the floor. 

Lilith stared unseeing at the night sky above her and continued to tear up the dress. The material wasn’t easy to rip apart, and it hurt her hands. She didn’t stop- didn’t even think about the pain. Welcomed it, really, as a distraction against what the _safframate_ was doing to her on the inside.


	6. The Inner Ledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The safframate has taken its toll and Lilith's in bad shape when Alex comes out to check on her. He is not at all happy to see what she's done to herself, and is dumping a lot of the blame on himself for letting it happen (even though she's able to use healing Craft to fix the damage done). He'll revisit his offer to help with the safframate. 
> 
> Lilith isn't left with much of an option other than to accept his help. That doesn't mean Alex will have it easy once he manages to get her to his bedroom. Centuries of skills seducing witches isn't the same as having practice with skittish virgins. And Lilith is determined that no matter what, she'll still be one when the night is over.
> 
> But that's the continuing drama with those two- we'll also have a chance to hear from Ettia's cousin, Bethaeny. The witch is coming to terms with the narrow miss she had the night before when her own evening plans with Alex were cancelled. Then again, she knows that the reprieve is likely temporary, and she's living on borrowed time. While reflecting on how she came to be in her current situation, Bethaeny will provide an interesting perspective about what life is like for witches serving in Meredith's coven.

**1/Terreille**

Alex guessed he ought to check on Lilith. After their final game of Cradle yesterday, he’d been so annoyed with Lilith- and with himself- for losing that he’d had to get away from her for a while. He’d been _sure_ that he’d win, and it had shaken him how badly disappointed he’d been when he _hadn’t_. Well, whatever mood had been riding him then hadn’t cleared yet, but Alex knew he ought to at least see how she was holding up.

Having spent the whole morning and the better part of the evening- not to mention the afternoon between- in his suite, he figured it had been almost a day and a half since Meredith had dosed her with the _safframate_. The worst should be over now that the drug’s effects peaked and were beginning to taper off. Maybe he could stand being around her if he didn’t have to see her in so much pain. Alex opened his bedroom door and listened cautiously for sounds in the main suite.

Deathly silence greeted him.

Uneasy that he didn’t hear her pacing, Alex emerged into the hallway. Maybe Lilith had fallen asleep. For her sake, he hoped that was true. At least sleep could buy her a few hours’ relief. He’d almost convinced himself that he’d worried over nothing as his footsteps carried him into the other room. But when he got there, Alex stopped dead. Lilith had collapsed to her knees, piles of shredded _something_ lying scattered around her- some of them smeared with blood. He paled when he realized what they were.

_Her dress. She’s torn it completely apart._

He advanced slowly into the room. Lilith didn’t notice, her eyes fixed on the window while her hands clasped what looked like a sleeve. He watched as her shoulders trembled with the effort of ripping apart the fabric. She lost her grip, and he realized where the blood had come from. The dress wasn’t _all_ she’d torn up.

_Mother Night, what did she do to herself?_

More to the point- what had _he_ allowed her to do? Alex berated himself for having sulked in his room as long as he had. He was equally- or _more_ \- to blame for her current condition. He knew what the _safframate_ was capable of doing. Now he could be too late to stop it. Cautiously, Alex knelt down in front of her.

Tears slid down her cheeks, but Lilith still didn’t make a sound. Not good. Nor was her slightly unfocused, inward stare. Alex tried to ignore the knife-edge of fear in his gut, and reached for the ragged scrap of fabric in her hands. Lilith flinched away from him, but he still wasn’t sure she actually _knew_ he was there. He cleared the lump in his throat and tried to talk around it.

“Lilith, let go of the dress. You’re hurt.”

She shook her head, whispering hoarsely, “Everything hurts.”

“I know, but this won’t stop it.”

When she tried to struggle to her feet, Alex held her in place. Doubtful she would have succeeded, but she was clearly in no condition to start pacing again. Lilith tugged out of his grasp and tunneled her fingers through her hair. They closed into fists as she began to pull them away from her head. Terrified that she’d try to rip it out by the roots, Alex reached for her hands and lowered them to her lap.

_My fault. She’s so close to breaking, and it’ll be all my fault._

“Lilith, look at me,” he insisted. “I know how bad it is, but you have to fight it. I promise I’ll help.”

“I…” her voice broke into a wracking sob. “I can’t do this anymore!”

Lilith jerked like a puppet cut from its strings and collapsed into him. Alex could only sit there, stroking her hair as she cried. No words could fix this. Just as well, since he wasn’t sure he was capable of speaking. His thoughts, however, had plenty to say.

He started by damning Meredith and her Black Widow bitch, Valinna. They’d played out this petty game and were responsible for everything Lilith had suffered these past two days. And then he damned himself for not having done a better job of taking care of her. This had not been much of a rescue, in his opinion. So he’d prevented Grael from raping her. What good was that victory if she still came out of this with a shattered mind?

Eventually, Lilith’s tears dissolved into watery breaths. In time, even those steadied as she attempted to pack away whatever had broken loose. Alex wasn’t sure what to say in the silence that stretched between them. When she pulled back again, he could see she was having a similar problem.

“Can we pretend that didn’t happen,” she asked finally.

Well, that was a good sign that maybe she wasn’t quite as fragile as he thought. The question certainly _sounded_ like something a sane person would ask. Well, maybe not _entirely_ sane, but definitely not the question of someone lost in the Twisted Kingdom.

“You can pretend it didn’t, but we both know it did.”

“I mean not make a big deal out of it.”

Alex turned her hands palms upward and created a ball of witchlight. The welts crisscrossing them were hideous, some still bleeding. Then he gestured to the remnants of her dress and told her, “Not a big deal, you say. I’d consider _this_ a big deal.”

“I just needed something to do as a way to distract from-”

“I know what you were doing,” he cut her off. “If I hadn’t come out here, do you have _any_ idea what you would have turned on next? I can tell you it wouldn’t have been another dress. You’d have turned on _yourself_ , Lilith.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do.”

“You can’t possibly-”

“I do know because _I’ve done it_ ,” he roared at her, too angry to keep a leash on his temper.

Lilith lapsed into startled silence. Alex futilely wished those words back again. Telling her that he’d been dosed with _safframate_ was one thing, but admitting that he’d crossed _that_ particular line was something better left unsaid. To anyone. He certainly didn’t want to remember the nights Meredith drugged and caged him in his suite. Punishment for not submitting as they wanted, of course.

He’d paced, cried, and ripped the place apart. And when _that_ didn’t work, he’d used physical pain to numb himself to the drug. Thank the Darkness he’d known enough healing Craft to fix the damage, but it didn’t erase the internal scars that still haunted him. Scars that were now apparent to Lilith.

“Well, I guess that about makes us even, then,” she mused.

“Even?”

“I get to be embarrassed that I cried all over you, and you can feel uncomfortable that you said more than you’d care to admit about living in Draega. Even.”

Feeling a little too raw to laugh, Alex could only shake his head in bemusement at her logic. “If you say so.”

Of course, all levity faded when he saw her palms again. They needed attention soon or they’d become infected. Alex knew he could do it, but he wasn’t sure he ought to test how closely Meredith was monitoring his Ring. She might expect and ignore certain kinds of Craft, but healing Craft would alert her that something wasn’t going as she expected. Lilith wasn’t in any shape to make an escape from here if their ruse were to be discovered now.

“Lilith, about your hands…”

She glanced down at them and grumbled, “Yeah, I suppose I ought to see to them.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Yes.” She glanced around the suite. “Do you have a bowl and some hot water?”

“I can get some.”

* * *

**2/Terreille**

DeSade stood and left the room- presumably to find the things she’d asked for. While he was gone, Lilith vanished the dress and had called in a few vials. Special brews that she prepared in advance of coming to Terreille, but never ones she’d had to use on herself. At least not before tonight. Lilith was contemplating how she’d come to that particular crossroads when the Prince returned carrying a bowl of lukewarm water.

“I see you cleaned house while I was gone.”

She shrugged as she focused her attention on the bowl he set before her, avoiding the question in his expression. Really, she didn’t want to look at him at all, too embarrassed that DeSade had caught her at a particularly weak moment and she’d cried in front of him. Lilith couldn’t remember the last time _anyone_ had seen her cry, much less witnessed the kind of pain he’d likely seen.

Lilith took some comfort that she wasn’t the only one to reveal a mortifying secret. She’d seen the look on DeSade’s face when he’d realized what he’d shouted at her. His words painted an all too vivid picture of what kind of torture Meredith had put him through. Lilith was enduring it just this once; he’d endured it for _centuries_. She could only imagine the kind of soul pain that left in him. It had been very obvious that he’d wished he hadn’t revealed even a part of it to her.

_Move on and don’t dwell on it. He won’t want to discuss any of that any more than you want to discuss the scars you bear._

“I made the mess; I ought to get rid of it,” she stated indifferently.

“I see.”

Lilith poured one of the vials into the bowl and waited until the water had turned milky. As steam rose into the air, she poured in the second one. Knowing what was to come next, she sucked in a breath and immersed both hands in the solution. It was every bit as painful as she expected. That indrawn breath left Lilith somewhere halfway between a curse and a prayer. DeSade heard it, and felt the need to comment.

“That’s hurting you,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“It’s my own fault,” she replied through her teeth. “It’s a reminder not to do stupid things like this again that make me need to heal something this fast.”

And fast it most certainly was. Lilith removed her hands from the bowl, turning them over to examine the results. They were whole- no sign of the welts from earlier. The injury was still healing beneath the surface, and would continue to do so over the next few weeks. But for now, the tissues were at least knit back together to prevent infection. She could tell from his incredulous stare that DeSade had never seen a healing like this done before.

“Amazing.”

“Yeah, but it hurts like a wicked bitch, so I try not to need to use that method too often.” She gestured to the bowl. “I’m through with that, if you wanted to dump the water out. Be very careful not to touch any of it and rinse out the sink.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say that solution is not meant to touch healthy flesh and leave it at that.”

He didn’t question what must have sounded like an ominous statement. Lilith just hoped that the Prince would heed her warning as he disposed of the contents of the bowl. Judging by how gingerly he held it around the base, it looked as though he had taken her at her word. While he disappeared down the hallway again, Lilith got up from the floor to sit on the couch. She was poking at her hands when he returned to the main room.

DeSade sat next to her. He said nothing for a minute or two, seeming to debate against himself about where to take the conversation next. Lilith was afraid that she knew what he wanted to bring up. The _safframate_. Although the worst of it had passed, she wasn’t out of danger. Far from it. Exhausted, and having already strayed too close to breaking once, another spasm might actually tip her over the edge.

If _she_ was thinking along those lines, Lilith knew _he_ would be, too. And no sooner had she completed that thought, his next words proved her right.

“Lilith, we need to talk. I think you really need to reconsider my offer.”

“Your promise…”

“I’m breaking it. That was too close, and we both know that the _safframate_ isn’t done yet.”

“There has to be some other choice,” she hedged, not wanting to admit that her options were limited.

The Prince must have sensed the opportunity to change her mind. He pressed on with his argument.

“Think about it, Lilith. There are only two options to ride this out- violence or sex. You’ve already tried violence and I don’t think you enjoyed it very much.”

“What makes you think I’d enjoy sex any better,” she muttered.

He did not answer her question. In fact, caught himself before giving one. Lilith wondered what he might have said, but just then, another spasm swept through her body. Involuntarily, her hands clenched the cushion with a fierce grip. DeSade didn’t miss any of it.

“It’s the _safframate_ again- isn’t it?”

Lilith’s eyes closed in defeat. “Yes.”

“Pacing and waiting it out isn’t going to work. You know that, right?”

She did, but, “I just- can’t.”

“You heard me before, Lilith, and I meant it. I know things that would help but wouldn’t cross that line.”

Lilith didn’t doubt that. Her mind conjured a vivid picture of what the Prince might do, and she had to fight the telltale flush in her cheeks. Mother Night, she couldn’t let him convince her to go along with it. Had to find an alternative. _Any_ alternative. But before she could offer one, DeSade had leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. A wholly unfair tactic, as he undoubtedly knew. The kiss only lasted a few minutes. Long enough, though, that when DeSade withdrew, Lilith knew the decision was a foregone one. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at him, expression haunted.

“You’re not going to stop, are you? If I say no now, you’ll be back again and again. Until I say yes.”

He nodded. “I’ll be back.”

She closed her eyes and turned away. “I’m so tired. Tired of fighting me.” She waved a hand in his direction. “Tired of fighting you. Tired of fighting this damned drug that’s trying to rip me apart.”

“You don’t have to fight it. Let me help.”

“Prince, I…”

“Alex,” he interrupted her.

“What?”

“My name is Alex.” He reached out to bring her gaze back to him. “You should use it.”

Lilith opened her mouth as if to speak and then closed it again. Her brows knitted together with worry as she finally found enough of her voice to answer him. 

“Alex…I’m not sure I can do this. Any of this.”

“Trust me.”

The words were spoken earnestly. Lilith wondered if he’d ever asked a witch to trust him before, and suspected not. A few seconds passed between them before Alex must have realized the significance of having uttered them. She thought she might have seen a flash of apprehension in his eyes. A different sort of apprehension coursed through Lilith. And yet it didn’t stop her from nodding her assent. Alex didn’t question it, putting her hand in his and leading her to his bedroom.

_What have you done?_

This wasn’t supposed to happen, and she’d done everything she could to try to prevent it. Lilith _never_ wanted him to feel like he had to do this- to do the ‘right thing’ when she knew he’d rather not. Who could blame him? He’d been brutally tortured by witches his whole life. Reason enough that he’d never want to take a witch to bed; reason enough not to make that demand of him.

_Reason enough to almost break your mind and end up in the Twisted Kingdom?_

_I knew what I was doing._

Lilith knew several opinionated males back home who would _not_ have agreed, and was grateful to have been spared their lectures if she _had_ lost control. On the other hand, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to admitting that she’d unnecessarily contributed to the damage already inflicted on Alex, either. It was a no-win situation, no matter what she did.

_I know what I’m_ not _going to do,_ she swore to herself. _We’re_ not _going to have sex. I won’t have_ that _on my conscience._

As it was, she had enough weighing on it. Just by being here and agreeing to do this, she was breaking long-standing oaths. Serious oaths. Ones she’d made to avoid repeating past mistakes and keep herself- not to mention the rest of the Blood- protected. And while she might not be walking the same path as she had then, the wrong move could prove far more catastrophic.

Lilith considered the risks of making an escape. It had been too dangerous before when the strength of the drug was waxing, but now that it had lessened, maybe she could survive out there. But something told her that if she ran now, the opportunity to finish what she came to Draega to do would be lost. Forever.

She was trapped. Hopelessly trapped.

* * *

**3/Terreille**

Bethaeny hadn’t left her suite since Meredith’s ‘demonstration’ to the coven. She’d even avoided going to the dining room for meals having those served here instead. Aside from the servants who’d brought them to her door, the only other person she’d seen in in the last day had been Ettia. Her cousin had come back to check on her around noon. But as for the rest of the coven, she hadn’t heard from any of them. Not even Chenoa or Kirsten.

_After what happened yesterday, can you really_ blame _them?_

No, she didn’t. She couldn’t blame any of them for choosing a path of self-preservation. Leaving their rooms came with it the risk of encountering a warlord, who may or _may_ _not_ be subdued by a controlling ring. Few would be likely to take that chance. And even if they were, they _certainly_ weren’t going to risk becoming Meredith’s next target on _her_ account. Not when they all knew she was on borrowed time with the Queen.

_More like it’s already run out._

Bethaeny sighed heavily and flopped over onto her stomach, tucking an oversized pillow under her chin. Ettia would lecture her for not acting like an adult. Always so prim and proper- even when they were young. But Ettia wasn’t here, so she could do as she pleased.

_What’s so great about acting like an adult, anyway?_

In the century since Bethaeny had made her Offering, she hadn’t been overly impressed with this thing called ‘adulthood’. Especially when it came to the responsibilities and expectations that came with it. Not just from her cousin, but Meredith and Valinna- even her own mother. Her family obligations were annoying at times, but she could handle them; pressures from _the Queen_ , though, were another matter.

Meredith frightened her. Always had. She’d been nothing like the Queen who ruled her home village. Her mother had tried to tell her that things would be different in Draega, but Bethaeny hadn’t been quite prepared for how much different. Nothing could have prepared her against the shock of those first few weeks, when she’d been given an introduction to ideas and behaviors promoted within Meredith’s court. Those had scared Bethaeny most of all.

Yesterday, for example. That whole business with the kitchen maid left Bethaeny horrified. Just as she’d been horrified to watch the Queen send other servant witches into Grael’s clutches over petty offenses. True, _this_ one had been caught stealing Rings, but allowing the Warlord to rape a witch struck her as an unjust punishment. Especially with the added torture of dosing her with _safframate_ first. Why didn’t Meredith just execute her? It was all the same in the end.

_Is it, though?_

_The thief would be dead. A just punishment for the crime she committed. There was no need to take it that far._

Except that kind of thinking only worked in a world where rulers were truly cared about justice. Bethaeny knew from decades of experience that particular concept fell very low on Meredith’s list of priorities. If it appeared at all. The ‘demonstration’ had more to do with instilling terror and obedience from the rest of the coven. Why else would she have brought them all in to watch?

_And when the next witch annoys her, Meredith will call us all in again to watch the scene repeat itself._ A dismal, but undeniable reality. Bethaeny just hoped when that next time came along, she would still be among the bystanders instead of the main attraction. That thought only added to her depressed mood. _It wasn’t supposed to be like this._

When she’d been young, she’d always heard that life in the courts of Draega was fun. Witches vising their village had talked about parties and entertainment to be found in the territory capital. They made it sound so glamorous. Far more enticing than life in a predominantly farming community. They might have two or three social events throughout the course of a single year. From the way the witches talked, they attended that many every week.

_Lies,_ she thought resentfully. _I had more of a social life back home than I do here._

Of course, parties had only been the half of it. In those tales, the witches gave lurid accounts of their adventures in the bedroom. Night after night of phenomenal sex with a variety of good-looking males who were all available for the taking. Whenever they wanted. Titillating stories that grabbed the attention of a witch who’d only begun yearning for her own Virgin Night.

Bethaeny had listened to them for hours on end, despite her mother’s clear disapproval. Many nights, she’d lain awake in bed, fantasizing about all the pleasures she could expect when she finally got her chance to serve the Queen. She’d envisioned herself surrounded by handsome males all vying to be her bed partner, each promising her untold delight if she’d only pick him over the others. To hear them say she was beautiful and desired.

_Hasn’t quite been what you hoped it’d be, has it?_

_No. Not at all._

Oh the witches hadn’t been completely dishonest. Meredith kept no less than a dozen blood males- sometimes more- at the hall. All of them for the taking whenever the coven wanted. Only none of the stories she’d heard had mentioned Rings of Obedience or _safframate_. Bethaeny had _assumed_ the blood males _wanted_ to serve; she hadn’t found it all that pleasant to discover that they had to be _forced_. An opinion that she learned to hide very quickly.

Not just hide- _suppress_. 

She’d had to learn how to use the tools and pretend it didn’t bother her to see the pain and resentment they caused. After a few decades, Bethaeny really hadn’t thought about whether or not it was wrong to dose a Warlord with _safframate_. Or whether or not she’d been justified in using a Ring to punish one who refused to obey her command. When _she_ was sent out to villages like hers to recruit new members for the coven, she’d told ribald stories of her exploits to young, impressionable witches. Selling them the same illusion that she’d been sold so long ago. She’d learned not to let it bother her.

Until yesterday.

The ‘demonstration’ had dredged up all the questions Bethaeny had thought she’d killed well over a half century ago. She’d been up most of last night, thinking about what she’d been doing since arriving in Draega. Wondering what kind of witch she’d become in order to survive in Meredith’s court. After nearly a day of thinking about it, she felt dissatisfied and somewhat disgusted with herself.

_There’s not much I can do about it. At least not if I want to_ keep _surviving in this place._

And as Ettia so bluntly put it last night, time was against her in that regard. Just when she thought she’d finally made progress in impressing Meredith, it turned out she’d done the complete opposite. Committed the biggest blunder at the worst possible time. Bad enough that she’d been too stupid to see the Queen’s offer for what it really was. Her ill-thought remark about the Prince left her feeling that much worse.

_Ten to one she sends me to DeSade the minute he’s finished with the servant witch._ A prospect that no longer filled her with giddy anticipation. Just fear and dread. Feelings that were perfectly natural. After what happened to Candace, any witch _should_ have had second thoughts about bedding the Prince. _So why_ wasn’t _I wary when Meredith offered him to me?_

Bethaeny knew what Ettia would say. She- and the rest of the coven- would chalk it up to naïveté. That she grew up in a farming community and was too dumb to figure out that Meredith was using her. Maybe she was. But then she thought back on what happened, looking for another explanation.

The meeting took place three days ago. Unusual that Meredith had summoned her to talk in private, but she didn’t dare disobey. When she arrived at the salon, she’d only been half-surprised to see Valinna standing next to the Queen. Rarely did anyone see one without the other, and so she didn’t think much of it at the time. Now Bethaeny wondered if Valinna had something to do with why she’d been so eager to accept loan of DeSade for an evening.

_Wouldn’t have been hard for her to use a compulsion spell._

Coming to that realization should have made her feel better, but it didn’t. Her own mother was a Black Widow. She’d coached Bethaeny time and again about recognizing a compulsion spell before sending her to Draega. She _should_ have sensed it.

_To what end? It’s not like you could have refused._

Good point. Just like Bethaeny couldn’t refuse if the offer was made a second time- with or without the help of a compulsion spell. She hugged the pillow tightly and curled onto her side, trying not to cry. After all, she had no business feeling sorry for herself.

_I’m only getting what I deserve._

* * *

**4/Terreille**

The trip down the hallway was over before she knew it. One step further and she found herself passing through the doorway to enter Alex’s bedroom. It was dark, so he lit a few tapers of witchlight. The added light only made Lilith that much more aware of where she was. She cast a worried look around- particularly towards the bed. Alex turned her to face him and settled his hands at her waist.

“It’ll be okay, Lilith. I told you- we’re not going to cross any lines you can’t handle. Believe me that I have experience enough to know what I’m doing.”

_Experience. You know how he_ got _that experience, don’t you?_

 _Yes,_ Lilith answered with an involuntary flinch. _You don’t have to remind me._

“Lilith- what’s the matter?”

Alex’s puzzled expression drew her back into the present. He must have seen her reaction, and was now looking for an explanation. Unwilling to bring up what she expected would be a painful subject for him, Lilith tried to brush it off.

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie and we both know it. Just tell me- whatever it is, I’m sure I can help.”

“I appreciate the offer, Prince, but-”

“Alex,” he reminded her.

She colored and took a breath. “That is going to be difficult to manage.”

“In this room, I’m Alex. Out there,” he gestured to the room beyond the door, “I’m Prince DeSade. But not in here, and definitely not tonight.”

His declaration served only to emphasize the reason why they’d come in here, and Lilith’s self-conscious flush deepened. She hadn’t wanted to do this, but now that they _were_ here, she hoped to get it over with before she died of embarrassment. Or before the _safframate_ robbed her of any coherent thought and she let this go further than she’d already agreed. Another spasm danced along every nerve in her body. Her vision blurred from trying to concentrate on breathing.

“It’s got you again, hasn’t it,” she heard him ask.

“Yeah, it does.”

His hands returned to her waist as he leaned in to kiss her. Lilith felt awkward and shy, not really knowing what she was supposed to do. Didn’t seem to stop him. Alex played his lips over hers like an expert musician at an instrument, encouraging her to follow his lead. No sooner had she let him tease her lips apart, Lilith gasped at the possessive sweep of his tongue over hers. And he wasn’t done there, coaxing her into making forays of her own.

The kiss intensified. So much that a growl rumbled at the base of Lilith’s throat. How’d she do that? A fleeting thought that came and went as another, more important question dawned on her: When had her shirt come undone? She had been so thoroughly distracted by the kiss that she hadn’t noticed Alex working the row of ivory buttons holding it together. Now it hung partly open in front.

Mother Night, she wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. _Safframate_ or not, the thought that Alex could see her was unsettling. Lilith’s hand immediately clutched at the edges to draw it closed again. She broke the kiss and tried to escape; Alex wouldn’t let her.

“Lilith, you don’t have to run.”

“Easy for _you_ to say. You’re not the one standing here half naked.”

Something flashed in his eyes, but was gone too quickly for her to know what it was. He raised an eyebrow at her while suggesting in a seductive whisper, “That could be arranged if you want.”

Panic-driven adrenaline gave her the strength to break free of his embrace. Lilith’s throat closed up with a nervous squeak and she resumed pacing. This was a mistake. She couldn’t do this. It was madness to even think she could try.

“No, that’s not what I had in mind!”

He didn’t attempt to reach for her again, studying Lilith with a somewhat perplexed expression. As if at a loss how things had gone awry. She supposed it must be unusual for Alex. Women didn’t typically refuse an invitation to see him strip naked. At length, he voiced his obvious bemusement at the predicament.

“Okay…obviously that was a bad idea.”

“Is _any_ of this a good idea? I don’t think-”

“Just relax. You were doing fine a minute ago.”

“Minute’s over,” she retorted sharply.

He finger-combed his hair and sighed, admitting, “I hadn’t expected it to be so difficult- for either of us.”

_Difficult_. A word that doused her like a bucket of cold water. Alex wasn’t looking forward to performing this service for her, and here she was, making it even _more_ difficult than it had to be. She clutched the shirt tighter and tried to avoid eye contact. _Should have just stuck to the original plan and refused._

“Maybe we just forget the whole thing.”

Alex said nothing that might indicate he disagreed with her. Suppressing feelings of humiliation, Lilith headed for the door in silence. She fumbled with the buttons that had come undone, not looking up. Which was how she nearly ran into Alex, who was blocking her escape to the hallway. Apparently, she’d assumed wrong. He _hadn’t_ changed his mind about doing this.

Lilith’s fingers had stilled mid-button; Alex clasped her hands in his and drew them away gently. The edges of the shirt hung free once more, spreading ever so slightly with each breath she took. Heat flooded her cheeks and blood pounded in her ears. When one of his hands slipped inside to her waist, Lilith fought the instinct to back away.

Alex lifted his other hand to brush her hair over her shoulder. She watched, mesmerized, as he bent his head to kiss her neck. Lilith inhaled slowly through her nose as he lingered for several minutes in the hollow where her throat met her right collarbone. Fingertips traced her left cheek and then down to her shoulder. Lulled by the whispering caresses against her skin, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

The shirt had slipped low across her back, though she couldn’t say when. Alex smoothed his hands over skin now laid bare. Every nuance of his touch was intoxicating, designed to melt her resistance. It worked so well that she almost didn’t notice that the shirt was now a pool of silk at her feet. Almost.

_Mother Night, I’m naked._

He was looking at her and she was _naked_. She blushed from the soles of her feet to the tips of her ears. And since Lilith couldn’t bring herself to look at him, she looked past him at the wall and prayed that she really could die of embarrassment. A thought that must have been plain.

“Don’t be self-conscious,” he whispered close to her ear. “You don’t have to worry about impressing me.”

Meaning that he wasn’t impressed. Lilith was sure he’d seen plenty of witches who would have, even if they were just using him. After all, she’d seen the witches in Meredith’s coven. They might be cold-blooded bitches, but they were all very beautiful women. Lilith wasn’t going to pretend that she could compete with them _. Just be grateful that Alex didn’t make a big deal about it._ She closed her eyes to hide her thoughts and tried to keep her tone even.

“What should I worry about?”

He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. 

“Nothing.”

One word shouldn’t have the power to send a woman’s pulse racing. But spoken in that deep, cultured voice, even that one seemingly innocent word was imbued with sexual undertones. She needed something to fight back. Needed to stay in control. A scathing retort hovered on the tip of her tongue, offering her a chance to regain her mental balance. Before she could let it loose, Alex stole it away again by kissing her. 

His hand, meanwhile, trailed downward until it stroked the swell of her breast. A firestorm of sensation blossomed beneath his questing fingertips. Lilith shuddered with a mix of pain and pleasure and her knees nearly buckled, suddenly weak. She could blame all the standing and pacing, but she knew what was really responsible. A moot point, really.

 _If you don’t do something soon, you’re going to collapse._ Lilith could think of only one option, though she was reluctant to take it. She didn’t have much of a choice. And so she raised her arms with the intent to reach out to Alex for support. Halfway there, she hesitated. _I can’t._

Alex paused, breaking the kiss.

“Lilith?”

“Uh huh?”

“It’s all right to touch me. I promise you’ll be just fine.”

Of course _she’d_ be fine. What about _him_? How many _other_ witches had touched him? Lilith really didn’t want to add her name to the list of women Alex had to endure; it was bad enough she was making him touch _her_. She was still lecturing herself on all the reasons why she couldn’t when Alex took her hands and placed them on his shoulders.

“There- nothing terrible happened. The world didn’t end.”

_I guess not._


	7. The Promise of Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is questioning his life thus far in Hayll, which gives rise to a different, unsettling internal confrontation. He'll push past it to fulfill his promise to Lilith. Trouble is, once the passion subsides doubt and self-recrimination set in. Driven by something he doesn't fully understand, Alex convinces her that this is the time for a Virgin Night....and he's the man to see her through it. Everything starts out okay, but then Alex twists his own insecurities into a weapon aimed at Lilith. To salvage anything between them he must admit to one of the deepest scars that Meredith and her coven have inflicted. A confession that inspires Lilith to make an offer of her own.
> 
> Meredith's advisor, Valinna, is not happy with how the Queen has been handling the situation with Lilith and Alex, and she'll give some reasons why. But her objections are overruled during a meeting with Meredith and Ettia, leaving her will little recourse...for now. As for Ettia, she's off to relay Meredith's decision to the coven, who are eager to take advantage of it. Paeter and Dahlen will bear the consequences, as will Kareal. She is stuck telling the two warlords that they're expected to provide 'entertainment' for the evening.

**1/Terreille**

Lilith didn’t look altogether convinced. Despite having agreed to let him do this, the witch clearly had misgivings about her decision. Alex could tell himself that her reaction was only normal, given that she was a virgin. Of course she’d be nervous. But several times, he’d gotten the impression that Lilith’s hesitation ran much deeper than that. That it had something to do with _him_.

_You know what it is._

He did. He just didn’t want to admit it. And yet the answer permeated his thoughts like a sickening perfume, taking the form of two words that refused to be silenced: _Pleasure slave._

A label that had existed in Hayll long before the Purge. A derogatory slur witches- and some men- used to humiliate the victims of Meredith and her pet Queens. Alex hadn’t ever thought of himself on those terms in all the years he’d been in Draega. He’d seen himself as a leashed predator who preyed on any witch foolish enough to bring him into her bed. The label hadn’t mattered to him.

It mattered now.

Alex had seen her involuntary flinch when he’d told her he was experienced. And while he’d meant for it to be reassuring, all he’d really done was draw attention to the fact that he’d been used by more witches than he could ever count. Experience like that gave him skills, but it was hardly a recommendation for a witch like Lilith. Why would she see anything positive about giving herself to someone like him? To a pleasure slave.

He shouldn’t care what she thought. Shouldn’t care what _any_ witch thought, but he did. Cared more than Alex wanted to admit.

_Don’t let yourself get distracted. Focus on what you’re here to do._

Advice Alex intended to follow. Meaning he needed to distract Lilith from any thoughts beyond the physical relief he’d promised to give her. The question was- how? Centuries of experience bedding witches and Alex wasn’t sure any of it was going to help him. He didn’t appreciate the irony.

“Alex?”

The sound of her voice brought him swiftly back to the present, as did hearing his name. Lilith hadn’t said it since he brought her into his bedroom. He’d told her to use it- rather, had _insisted_. It lessened any chance that she would accidentally trigger memories of the coven bitches. They preferred referring to his caste when they used him. No telling how he’d react to hearing it tonight, even if Lilith wouldn’t mean it like they did. So his offer had been nothing more than a practical solution.

There was nothing ‘practical’ about the heat stirring in his blood. Or the desire to hear her say it again. Not in the uncertain querying tone she had just now, but the way she’d call out his name when passion made her desperate and wanton. When she’d be _his_. Nothing practical at all.

_What did I say before about claiming things? Lilith is just-_

 _Mine,_ another part of him insisted vehemently.

_I’m only doing this to help her through the_ safframate, he argued back _. It’s as simple as that._

 _It_ is _simple. She’s ours. Has_ always _been ours._

“I think I’d better go.”

Alex didn’t really register that Lilith had spoken, too preoccupied with the argument against himself. What the hell did that mean, anyway- _always_? He’d only known the witch for a little more than a day. And as soon as the _safframate_ had run its course, she would be gone again. Hopefully back to whatever territory she’d come from, never to return. Somewhere far from Meredith. And…him.

That last thought rankled, although not quite so much as Lilith’s attempt to shy away from his embrace. Alex didn’t loosen his hold, gliding his hands down to her waist to pull her closer. So close that he could feel the heat of her skin- the subtle press of her curves from shoulder to hip. He’d expected to fight a nasty battle against himself to suppress the cold rage that usually gripped him during moments like this.

It didn’t come.

An altogether different battle raged inside him. Raw desire. It churned and rose up from somewhere deep within- unfamiliar and potentially dangerous. Alex wasn’t quite as sure that he would be able to control it. Wasn’t sure if he could convince himself he _wanted_ to control it. He certainly couldn’t stop himself from tilting her chin up so that he could kiss her.

Lilith offered only a second’s hesitation before her mouth warmed beneath the encouraging brush of his. It wasn’t enough, and so he deepened the kiss to ask for more. No hesitation this time. Not even a token resistance as he teased her lips open enough to explore the sweet taste of her. Like drinking in sunlight. For a man who’d spent most of his life caged in the cold darkness of Draega, it burned through him like fire.

Needing a moment to catch his breath, Alex pulled back slightly and broke the kiss. Lilith, still caught in a sensual haze of passion, stared up at him helplessly. No fear. No calculating meanness or cruel satisfaction. Nothing except a hunger that almost made him forget who and what he was. But Alex forced himself back to reality, reminding himself that she wouldn’t be looking at him like that if not for the _safframate_.

_Are you so certain?_

 _Of course I am. You saw how hard she’s resisted even when drugged. She doesn’t want me- wouldn’t_ ever _want me._

 _You don’t really know that unless you ask._ He _could_ ask, but he would risk revealing his own desire to her. Too dangerous, even if she wasn’t like Meredith or her coven bitches. Alex couldn’t afford to let _any_ witch get that close to finding out he was vulnerable. _Coward._

The word rang sharply in the back of his mind. Insulted by the accusation, he shot back, _I’m only trying not to lose one of the few advantages I have._

A heartbeat passed, and then two.

_If you aren’t careful, you’ll lose something far more important._

Riddles. Words that did nothing but incite confusion and apprehension. Neither of those emotions was useful to him at the moment, and so Alex did his best to shut them- and that damned voice- out of his mind. No more distractions. He focused on taking them to the next step of this dance, guiding Lilith towards the bed. Except she wasn’t so eager to follow his lead. The delay caused by his internal argument must have given her time to regain some of her self-control. 

“I think I’ll be okay now,” she said, trying to hold him away with her hands. “There’s no need to…”

“Lilith, we’re not going over this again.”

“But, I dunno…”

“Remember what I told you? Nothing to worry about.”

She didn’t look convinced, but didn’t protest as Alex closed the distance between them again.

* * *

**2/Terreille**

An entire day had passed since Meredith’s demonstration. More than a day, in fact. In Valinna’s opinion, it had met with mixed results on the whole. She hadn’t been in favor of letting Grael break the witch, and she certainly hadn’t agreed with the Queen’s decision to let DeSade have her. Unfortunately, all of her objections had been largely pushed aside and dismissed as overly alarmist.

Most disturbing had been Meredith’s insistence that she didn’t need to monitor DeSade. Even Ettia had questioned the decision, and Valinna hadn’t credited the witch with much in the way of intelligence. But the Queen had held firm against the witch’s doubts- and Valinna’s. She’d repeated her claims that the Prince would obey her for the sheer challenge it represented. While she had to admit that DeSade did take pleasure in how creatively he could defy them without _actually_ defying them, Valinna suspected that without proper supervision, they would find a corpse when they returned to his suite to collect the witch.

_If there’s even_ that _much left of her._

Blood males could not- and _should_ not- be trusted. She’d learned that lesson early from the man she _should_ have been able to trust more than any other. Lord Tekel, though, had broken that trust shortly after she’d gone through her Birthright Ceremony. No doubt he would have done it sooner, but felt the need to wait until he’d been given his full paternal rights. Well, that night the things he’d done to her in the squalid cubicle she’d called her bedroom had been anything but _fatherly_.

But not enough to break her.

Valinna had walked away from that nightmare with her inner web still intact. Tekel, enraged that he was too late to enjoy breaking her, had savagely beaten her mother to death just weeks after the Ceremony. No one in their village stopped any of it from happening or punished him in any way. They all stood back as the bastard lost no time in satisfying his desires with his other daughter- Valinna’s younger sister, Chelsea.

Of the two of them, Chelsea had been the sweet-tempered one. She just wasn’t a fighter. Probably why she shattered when Valinna had held on. And why Tekel focused most of his abuse on her. Most, but not all. Valinna experienced her fair share of horror at his hands before she finally escaped the monster. She’d had to leave Chelsea behind, though she swore she’d return for her one day. Unfortunately, by the time Valinna had been strong enough to take on Tekel, the bastard had covered his tracks and disappeared. She never saw him- or her sister- ever again.

_Regrets long gone,_ Valinna reminded herself. _Can’t change the past, so keep looking onward to the future._ Her gaze fell upon the witch sitting before her, giving an update to Meredith about DeSade’s activities. _Or at least be mindful of the present._

“Still no sign of the Prince outside his suite,” Ettia confirmed. The same message she’d brought to them as every other time the witch had been summoned. “He hasn’t been seen by anyone in the coven in the two days.”

_That doesn’t mean he’s still in there._

Skepticism that Meredith did not seem to share. She leaned forward, edging into Valinna’s peripheral vision and replied, “I expected as much. Giving DeSade a witch to play with has kept him content, so there is hardly a reason that the coven should have anything to fear. In a few days, they may reap even greater benefits from this arrangement.”

Ettia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, expression slightly dubious. Valinna couldn’t blame her, having similar doubts. They were by no means safe, and with another night stretching ahead of them, it was premature to celebrate a victory. Beyond reckless, even, to insinuate that the coven may expect to use the Prince for themselves. But as the latter concern didn’t propose as immediate a threat, she voiced her concerns about the former instead.

“I would advise to maintain caution. The Prince may still lose interest- especially if the witch is no longer in any condition to be of any genuine sport.”

After a brief pause where she pretended to consider the advice, Meredith delivered a condescending rebuke.

“I’m sure DeSade quite understood what was expected of him, my dear. And I’m equally certain that he has taken that into account so as not to spend the witch’s endurance too soon.” After a slight pause, in which Valinna tried not to seethe with indignant frustration, she added, “However, we will naturally continue to keep an eye on the Prince.”

Ettia bobbed her head at the meaningful look cast in her direction and agreed with a hasty, “Yes, of course.”

“So you see, Valinna, no need to fixate on doom and gloom. All is well in hand.”

_I very much doubt it,_ she thought dourly. _But as you’ve already made it quite clear that my input is not wanted, I see no use in pursuing this until the chit has left the room._

In Meredith’s mind, the topic was settled. She looked to Ettia and invited the witch to raise anything that she felt required the Queen’s attention. After a pause that held for several minutes, Ettia hesitantly brought up a subject that she looked as though she’d rather have left unaddressed.

“Actually, there is one thing the rest of the coven wanted me to ask about.”

“Oh?” Meredith sat back and crossed one leg over the other. “And what was that?”

“They were wondering whether it’s possible to resume use of the pleasure slaves.”

Valinna was not surprised at the request. Disappointed, perhaps, but not surprised. She was prepared with arguments meant to keep the coven in check, not willing to jeopardize their safety just to appease a few overactive libidos. Lifting the restrictions still presented a credible risk in Valinna’s opinion. Ever since the attack on Zirah, she’d meticulously probed the Ring that had failed to control the Warlord. And in two days, she’d discovered no reason as to _why_ it had failed.

Disconcerting, to say the least. An impending disaster waiting to happen to put a finer point on it. If Valinna didn’t think the rest of the coven would openly rebel, she would have insisted that all blood males in the hall be destroyed and no new ones acquired until replacement Rings could be created. Honestly, she would have tried to argue against having them at all.

Such a battle could not be won in her favor, and so she abandoned it in favor of a lesser plan. Keep investigating the anomaly, all the while keeping the coven away from any potential danger. In fact, she almost hoped that Meredith was correct about the Prince’s obedience, and that she would soon have the ability to further interrogate that servant witch they’d discovered in the store room. Valinna suspected that she would be able to provide key pieces to the puzzle- especially when asked about the controlling rings she’d been caught stealing. So until she completed her investigation, the coven would just have to wait.

“I don’t see why not.”

Meredith’s casually delivered response ruined everything. It was as if the witch had heard _none_ of Valinna’s warnings in the past day and a half. But then, she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised by it; the Queen’s appetites were even more insatiable than those of her coven. She’d complained almost constantly about having to do without. And so having this request brought before her had given the witch the perfect opportunity to countermand Valinna’s restrictions, which she found so unreasonable.

“I’m not sure that’s wise,” Valinna cautioned, unable to hold silent even though she knew better.

The Queen arched a brow at her, clearly perturbed at having her authority openly questioned in front of a coven member. Her tone conveyed her displeasure even more sharply as she queried, “And why would you think _that_ , Valinna?”

She could not hope to convince Meredith to change her mind now. At _best_ , she could try to relay a carefully worded warning to Ettia that _might_ prevent any serious harm from befalling the coven. It was worth a try. With difficulty, Valinna schooled her expression to be as neutral as possible.

“I only mean that our Sisters should be cautious. Although no other blood males have engaged in acts of aggression, we cannot afford to let down our guard so much that we give one the opportunity to try again.” She sighed. “That being said, if the coven is of the mind that they are able to maintain control, then I suppose that prohibiting this particular amusement is not necessary.”

“For a moment there, you almost had me worried. But I’m glad to hear that you believe the coven can manage their own affairs.”

Needling, sly and petty. Valinna heard it, and she suspected Ettia did as well. Not an image that boded well for either of them if the witch gossiped about any of this exchange with the other members of the coven. She had to make an end to this fiasco before Meredith did any more damage to the united front she’d worked so hard to cultivate. Once she could get the Queen alone again, she intended to _remind_ her why that front was so important.

“I always have faith in their abilities,” she lied. “My cautionary suggestions are merely given with their best interests in mind.”

The platitudes seemed to pacify the Queen. Enough that she was content to release Ettia on her errand to deliver the ‘good’ news to the rest of the coven. The witch rose and fled the private salon with far more speed than dignity. When the door closed behind her, Valinna turned to face Meredith.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Hardly,” she retorted in an affronted sniff. “If anything I should be asking _you_ that question.”

“Why, because I am actually trying to keep this situation contained? Do you realize how precarious our control is at the moment?”

“Precarious? You exaggerate the dangers of a handful of light-jeweled warlords, Valinna.”

_I wasn’t just talking about our control of the_ blood males _, though they do present a very serious concern_. _If we don’t navigate these next few days the right way, we’ll face an even greater danger from our own coven members._

“And you _underestimate_ the issue,” she countered quietly. “I’ve told you multiple times that I’m not confident that the malfunctioning Ring was an isolated incident. I haven’t even determined the root cause behind it. It is not safe to allow the males any opportunity to repeat the attack suffered by Zirah.”

“Zirah got injured because she hesitated to strike at that Warlord when his Ring didn’t respond. As far as I’m concerned, she deserved what she got. Furthermore, I have no interest in holding the coven’s interests hostage just because you can’t work out the problem with the Rings.”

Meredith made it sound as though the fault was with Valinna. As if the ‘problem’ should have been no problem at all. And while Valinna agreed that she shouldn’t be having _this_ much difficulty, she resented the implication that it was due to any lack of skill on _her_ part. Resentment she couldn’t afford to let show- not even when they were alone.

_Not yet, anyway._ Valinna narrowed her eyes slightly. _But it may be time to rethink our…dynamics._

For now, she pasted an insincere smile on her lips and replied, “In that case, I believe I shall adjourn so that I might devote the evening to that task.”

* * *

**3/Terreille**

The shock of brushing against his clothes- not to mention the blatantly male body beneath them- silenced any attempt to argue. Lilith surrendered, unable to fight anymore; the _safframate_ had put her body on Alex’s side, anyway. His hands traced their way down her curves, eliciting shivers of pleasure that melted her bones. She sank onto the bed, gasping at the sensation of silk sheets against her skin.

Lilith stared at the ceiling, unable to look at anything else as the mattress dipped and he settled next to her. Hands clasped so tightly they shook, she tried to steady the desperate rhythm of her heartbeat. Mother Night, how was she going to get through this? Alex unlaced her fingers gently and drew her hands apart; they still shook, but he pretended not to notice.

_Don’t make this harder than it needs to be_ , she told herself. _Just let him do whatever needs to be done and get this over with._

Not so difficult to comply when his languid touch slid over her body. Teasing. Caressing. It fed the need that had been building since yesterday, but fell short of satisfying it. Lilith sucked in a stifled whimper as the _safframate_ gripped her again. Alex’s fingertips stilled briefly before they continued trailing down her belly to slide even lower. 

She no longer thought about the drug. Hell, she could hardly breathe. How could she when he wrung soft moans from her lips with each maddening stroke? Lilith’s fists wound into the silk sheets at her sides, praying for some release from such exquisite torture. The _safframate’s_ assault abated after a minute; Alex, however, was far from finished. While one hand rested near hers on the mattress, the other grazed the triangle of neatly trimmed curls at the juncture of her thighs.

 _Hell’s fire, he can’t possibly mean to touch me_ there _. Could he?_

Oh Mother Night, he _could_. He _was_. Lilith let go of a broken sob that was born partly of pleasure, and partly from the pain of sensations far too intense to put into words. Alex stole the end of her keening whimper with a kiss, while his fingers stroked the slickness of her body. Tremors built, bubbling and skittering inside. She swayed and ground against him, lost in the storm of need and too painfully aroused to hold herself back.

He eased up suddenly, leaving her breathless. Fingers, glistening in the witchlight, slid upwards to play with her breasts. If she could have formed a coherent thought, Lilith might have killed him. She had no idea what they’d been striving for a moment ago, but he’d deliberately pulled them away from that edge. A frustrated growl escaped her.

“Slow down, Lilith,” he crooned in a low voice before nibbling on her earlobe. “We’ve only just begun. I have so much more to teach you.”

_More?_ _I’m not sure I can survive_ more _._

But oh what a teacher Alex was. No wonder witches risked his temper. Despite the pain brought on by the _safframate_ , his touch was seductive. Addicting. Shattering, even. Lilith struggled to maintain her balance as he took them down that dark road again. Not the touch of his hands this time, but his lips. The tip of his tongue. They worked in concert over her skin, until the latter traced her left nipple with a teasing whorl.

She would’ve come off the bed, but Alex held her steady. Lilith traded her grip on the sheets for his shirt, gathering the silk in her fists as she arched her body against his mouth. For that moment, she didn’t care that he wasn’t doing this because he wanted to. In fact, she didn’t care that _she_ shouldn’t want to be doing this. She allowed herself to feel how she wanted to, and damned anything else.

For a moment.

When he pulled away to stare down at her, Lilith realized she’d been shaking. Mother Night she hadn’t wanted him to stop- _still_ didn’t want him to stop. What was she doing? Allowing him to provide physical relief was one thing, but she wasn’t supposed to lose control. She had to get it back. And from the strange expression filling his gold eyes, Alex was fighting a battle of his own; Lilith didn’t want to think about what kind of struggle _he_ might be facing.

She almost found the courage to ask him about it when Alex kissed her again. A demanding kiss that Lilith might have called possessive if she didn’t know better. He didn’t linger long before moving down her body again. Except this time his lips trailed past her breasts and her navel, the intent of his final destination clear.

_Mother Night and the Darkness be merciful, he’s going to-_ Lilith broke that thought before she could finish. _I’m going to die_.

But what a way to die.

Pleasure rocked her when his tongue- his _tongue_ \- mimicked the coaxing brush of a fingertip over the hypersensitive bud at the core of her body. Intense. Too intense. Unable to bear it, Lilith tried to scoot away, but again Alex held her in place. She gasped; she trembled. Once, she thought she might have whispered his name in a desperate plea as pleasure took on a fierce knife edge. Lilith’s breath shuddered into sobs and time spiraled on endlessly.

Gradually, he brought them back from that edge with gentler caresses. She could breathe again- shakily and somewhat unevenly, but she could breathe. Alex wasn’t helping in that regard, teasing her with leisurely kisses as he made his way up her body. His lips lingered just above her right collarbone to lavish his single-minded attention on that spot. Lilith shivered and closed her eyes, heart pounding. 

Alex drew back and her eyes fluttered open to stare up at him. Mistake. In the aftermath of such abandon, thoughts of guilt and recrimination drifted in. Of what she’d just let him do. The things she’d done- and said- in return. Lilith found herself struggling with the effort not to flush crimson with embarrassment. What should she say now? How could she get around this feeling of awkwardness?

“I imagine other women are more articulate at this point,” she mumbled reluctantly, breaking the silence.

“Other women tend to talk a lot without saying anything.”

“I don’t know what I’m supp-”

Lilith heard the break in her voice and was horrified that she might start to cry… _again_. That was not the appropriate reaction to what he’d just done for her. She reached for some measure of control, but her nerves were frayed to the point of snapping. And despite what they’d done, her body _still_ hammered with that relentless need. Lilith clapped a hand over her mouth and looked away, hoping to silence the sob that was trying to escape.

* * *

**4/Terreille**

Whatever Lilith had intended to say was lost in the choked cry that she was struggling to hide. Stress. Alex didn’t take it personally, and wasn’t surprised that it was wreaking havoc with her emotions. But damn it hurt to see her so upset. Lilith was too embarrassed to even _look_ at him. He reached out to stroke her hair.

“Hey. You don’t have to do anything.”

She cringed away and whispered in a haunted voice, “I _knew_ I wouldn’t be any good at this. Turning into a total basket case over nothing. I’m _never_ going to be any good at this. At _any_ of this.”

“It’s just the _safframate_ ,” Alex assured her while trying to get her to meet his eyes. She kept them downcast. “Lilith, you’re being too hard on yourself.” After another pause, he tried again. “Lilith?”

Still nothing.

He was at a loss what to say. Lilith honestly believed that she’d done something wrong, self-doubt written all over her face. An impression that would be easily contradicted if she let her gaze drift just a little further down. Mother Night, his whole body was still aching from the need to finish what they started. If not for knowing she was a virgin…images of what he would have done next filled his head. Alex tried to quell his body’s response and failed miserably.

Maybe that was what spurred him to answer her with the first thing that came to mind.

“I’d prove you wrong if you let me.”

“ _WHAT?_ ” Lilith bolted upright, pupils dilated in shock. After it had worn off, she shook her head. “Okay, _maybe_ I was overreacting a little, but that’s no guarantee I’d be any good at…” she hesitated. “Well- _that_.”

Alex wanted to tell her that he knew from experience that she would be more than just ‘good’, but the less said about his ‘training’ at the hands of Meredith’s coven, the better. And yet what _did_ he tell her? He was still pondering the answer to that question when Lilith asked one of her own.

“What possible interest can _you_ have to find out, anyway?”

_Why_ am _I interested?_

He shouldn’t be. Had told himself _not_ to be, but the desire rose past every defense Alex laid in its path. Maybe he could have ignored the lure of a beautiful body. He’d seen hundreds of them; they’d all left him cold and disinterested. No, what he wanted- what he _needed_ \- was to possess the woman. _This_ woman. The golden-eyed hellcat who argued with him in one breath and laughed with him in the next.

But she was a virgin. The _safframate_ might be waning, but the risk wasn’t worth it. Far safer to back off and let her go. She’d be able to make this decision on a different day when she could choose the man. A man that wouldn’t be him. Something deep inside roared to the surface and rejected that idea before Alex could let it sink in.

 _To Hell with what is safe. She’s_ mine _._

Something he didn’t dare admit aloud to Lilith; thinking those words was dangerous enough. Alex preferred to let her believe his interest was more fundamental in nature, and so he pulled Lilith up against him to let her know he was aroused. She read the unspoken message easily enough. Odd, though, to see a fleeting look of guilt flash in her eyes. There and gone.

“So what do you say, Lilith,” Alex entreated her softly. “Why not let me prove you wrong?”

“I really shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Lilith paled dramatically and murmured, “I have my reasons.”

“Which are?”

“Mine to keep.”

Her words rang with conviction. Obviously, whatever her reasons, they were more than worry over the Virgin Night. Alex told himself that he should just end it there. But he found he couldn’t. He wanted her, and he meant to have her.

“I promise you’d never forget it.”

Something in those words sparked her temper, and she narrowed her eyes as she retorted sharply, “That promise can go one of two ways you know.”

“Not tonight.”

“Have you even _done_ this before?”

The honest answer to her question would be no. Meredith had never risked letting him give any of her pet coven bitches a Virgin Night for fear that he’d break them. Not because he didn’t _understand_ how to keep them safe, but because he would have ignored those precautions intentionally. After all, Alex would have had no interest in protecting _those_ witches. _Lilith_ , on the other hand…

“I can do this,” he assured her solemnly.

“Well, at least _one_ of us thinks so.”

“Is that a lack of faith in me, or are you doubting yourself again?”

She snarled something he couldn’t quite catch and then stopped abruptly to draw a sharp breath. The _safframate_ had her again. Alex captured one of her hands in his and held it until it passed. His other hand smoothed circles over her back. Gradually, she pulled out of the spasm.

“It’s not as bad, but it still won’t leave me alone,” she whispered. After a momentary pause, she sighed heavily and asked, “How much does it help?”

“An idle question, or are you serious?”

“Were _you_ serious?”

“I was.”

“Then so am I.”

“I don’t know,” Alex told her after thinking on it for a few minutes. He’d wanted to tell her it would so that she’d be more likely to agree, but owed Lilith the truth. “If this was any other situation and you weren’t…”

“A virgin.”

He nodded. “Factor that in and things get a little…complicated.”

A wan smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she lamented wryly, “ _Everything_ I do is complicated. Just _once_ I wish something would be easy.”

Having no good reply, Alex chose to say nothing. Silence stretched between them as she seemed to be working up to making a decision one way or another. The longer it took, the more he was convinced that he should just let her go. If Lilith didn’t want this, he was only making it harder for her to say no. Alex wouldn’t want her to feel like she _couldn’t_. He’d be little better than Meredith or her coven bitches.

_Or worse._

“All right.”

Deep in his own thoughts, he’d almost missed her reply. Alex couldn’t believe what he _had_ heard, and the shock prompted him to utter, “Mother Night.”

“And may the Darkness be merciful,” she finished for him.

She was giving him her virginity. No witch had ever _given_ him anything, let alone something as personal as this. Alex had only one regret, surprisingly. He wished he were able to do this as a free man. Lilith was bound to notice the Ring of Obedience he wore. Even if he put a sight shield over it, _he’d_ know it was there. Just one more thing in his life that would be tainted by those bitches.

_Nothing I can do about it._

* * *

**5/Terreille**

Ettia was glad to escape Meredith’s private salon. She’d seen far too much of it for her liking these past few days, having been summoned to it no less than a dozen times to provide the Queen with updates on DeSade. An arrangement that suited the rest of the coven just fine, as it meant she stood as the main barrier between Meredith and everyone else. Not that she could blame them; if the task had fallen to Seren or any of the others in the first circle, she would be more than happy to be spared dealing with the Queen. But as she’d drawn the unfortunate luck of witnessing the exchange outside of the Prince’s suite, the duty had fallen on Ettia’s shoulders.

The updates didn’t make sense, in Ettia’s opinion. Or, at minimum, were completely unnecessary. She firmly believed that all of this could have been avoided if Meredith had just _monitored_ DeSade through the Ring. Even if she didn’t interfere with whatever he decided to _do_ to the witch, having that much awareness would have provided _some_ measure of control.

_Unless the Prince’s Ring isn’t working._

That thought did not sit comfortably at all. DeSade. Without anything to stop him from doing whatever he wanted. Ettia had tried to push it aside as her imagination getting the better of her. After all, she’d heard the stories of how his Ring was ‘different’. So even if others failed, his wouldn’t fail the same way. And yet, she couldn’t shake the uneasy suspicion that it was true. Why else would the Queen sequester herself in her suite for this long? Almost as if she were hiding from something. Or some _one_.

_But if it_ is _true and his Ring no longer works, then why hasn’t he come after us? Why hasn’t DeSade come after the coven? Why haven’t_ any _of the blood males come after us?_

Questions she couldn’t answer, but didn’t feel brave enough to ask directly to Meredith herself. As it was, she’d already pushed the envelope just by bringing up the pleasure slaves. Hadn’t _wanted_ to, but Idrina and Kaeremi had been most adamant on the subject. They’d talked of nothing else since yesterday evening. Which just proved how quickly they’d forgotten the incident with Zirah.

_Valinna hasn’t._

She’d seen the look on the Black Widow’s face when Meredith lifted the restrictions on using the males. Had it been up to her, the answer would have been very different. And though she may not have been able to completely walk back on the decision, she did make it very clear that the coven should reconsider acting on their restored privileges. It was the first time she’d _ever_ seen Valinna openly criticize the Queen.

_Something that bears consideration._

Ettia shoved that thought to the back of her mind as she drew up to the dining room. Right now, she had to deal with the rest of the coven, who had all gathered at one end of the long table. Not everyone, but a few key members from the first and second circle. Ettia noted that Bethaeny was not among the latter. Her cousin had, like Meredith, kept mostly to her rooms these past few days.

_Better that way, since it’s meant no one has noticed me spending time with her._

“So,” Kaeremi prompted as soon as Ettia joined the group. “What did Meredith say?”

“Meredith relaxed her position about the blood males, though Valinna-”

“ _Finally_ ,” Idrina cut in emphatically, not even waiting for her to finish. “I seriously couldn’t have gone another night this way.”

From her tone, Idrina made it sound as though the restriction had been in place for weeks instead of one whole evening. Although, given her appetites, maybe it had felt like weeks to the witch. Ettia knew she’d gone so far as to claim one of the blood males exclusively for her personal use and rarely passed a night without using him. As had Kaeremi, who emulated Idrina on everything. No doubt both of them would send for their favorites in spite of any warning she might pass on to them.

Others in the group, however, were not quite so enthusiastic about the news. From Danella and Maeren’s wary expressions, they were weighing the risks and weren’t all that convinced that the benefits would be worth sharing Zirah’s misfortune. Seren was harder for Ettia to gauge; she kept her thoughts closely guarded in general, making it more difficult to know her position.

Talking over the excited chatter between Idrina and Kaeremi, Seren directed a pointed question Ettia’s direction, asking, “What were you going to say about Valinna?”

“She offered a warning that we should remain alert for any signs of disobedience or rebellious behavior.”

Three heads nodded in immediate understanding; two merely laughed it off as an amusing joke. Of the latter, Kaeremi went so far as to scoff at the warning, sounding very much like Meredith as she sniggered, “I think I can handle one of Paeter’s little temper tantrums if he dares to get out of line. And if he refuses to perform…well, there’s always the _safframate_.”

The mention of _safframate_ was intended to be light-hearted, but only managed to remind everyone about Meredith’s demonstration. Even Kaeremi, who bit her lip with a self-conscious wince. Ettia hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what had been done and the implications of what it might mean for all of them. Obviously, she hadn’t been the only one. Dosing a witch with it- none of them had seen it done before. Didn’t mean it hadn’t _happened_ before their time, but only that Meredith hadn’t felt the _need_ to use that particular punishment on her coven in recent years.

_Now that she_ has _, I’ve no doubt she’ll be using it again._

“What do you suppose he’s done to her,” Danella queried in a half-whisper.

“I’ve tried not to think about it,” Maeren replied. “Thief or no, DeSade unleashed isn’t anything I’d wish on any witch. Throw two spoonfuls of _safframate_ on top of that…”

“She’d have been better off to have confessed to Meredith and Valinna from the outset. It’s not like she was going to win against them once she got caught.”

Seren was right. Which made the witch’s resistance all the more baffling. Why force the Queen to take such drastic measures instead of accepting defeat and receiving a lighter punishment? Ettia could only conclude that the witch was blindly arrogant about her chances of survival…or completely insane.

“A moot point now, I guess,” Idrina said with a shrug that suggested she no longer cared about the topic. “If she was stupid enough to challenge Meredith and Valinna, I won’t lose too much sleep over it.” A catlike smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “Although, I suppose I don’t intend to be doing much of _that_ tonight, anyway.”

By then, Kaeremi had recovered enough of her good humor enough to laugh along with her. A thread of nervousness remained beneath that laughter, but neither of them would admit it. Nor did they want anyone to point it out to them, and so both witches broke away from the group as quickly as possible. Seren followed shortly thereafter, leaving just the three of them behind. Ettia traded a glance with Danella and Maeren, saying nothing.

“I sure hope they know what they’re doing,” Maeren commented after a moment or two. 

“I suppose worse comes to worst, Meredith loses two Blood males. It’s not like Paeter or Dahlen can overpower either of them.”

Danella was right in some ways; wrong in others. Ettia reluctantly spoke to the latter, reminding the witch, “Only if they work alone. The two of them could take on Kaeremi. Maybe not Idrina, since she wears Sapphire, but they could still cause serious damage if the attack came as a surprise.”

A long pause followed.

“You’ve given this subject considerable thought.”

“Couldn’t afford _not_ to. Meredith put me in charge of the coven’s safety until DeSade is through with the witch.”

Both women shuddered.

“I honestly don’t know why you wanted to be in Meredith’s first circle,” Danella murmured. “It’s dangerous enough being in the coven at all, much less to intentionally draw that much attention to yourself.”

She hadn’t. But Ettia had little choice in the matter. Last year, a space in the first circle ‘opened up’, and of the witches in the second circle, Ettia had been the strongest in terms of Jeweled strength. Of the other witches who were already in the first circle, only Idrina and Geara outranked her. Naturally, Meredith had proffered the invitation to her- an offer that Ettia had known she could not turn down. Not if she wanted to remain among the living.

Rather than say any of that aloud, she took a wholly different approach.

“Equally dangerous not to be noticeable at all. I couldn’t afford to let her see me as ‘expendable’.”

Clearly Maeren and Danella hadn’t looked at it from that perspective. Just as Bethaeny hadn’t, and look where that had gotten _her_. Avoiding the Queen’s notice may have _seemed_ to be the safer alternative, but really, it wasn’t. All it did was make these women blind to whatever unpleasant fate awaited them. Better to understand that now than to be surprised by it later.

“There’s just no winning,” Maeren said at last. “For any of us.”

The comment teetered on the side of dangerous; Ettia’s reply pushed the conversation over the edge, even though she knew she shouldn’t say it.

“In Hayll? No. As long as Meredith remains Queen, I don’t think anyone is truly meant to win.”

* * *

**6/Terreille**

Alex pushed that thought aside and turned his full attention to Lilith. She’d caught her lower lip between her teeth, clearly nervous. If he hesitated too much longer, she’d change her mind.

_So give her a reason not to._

He started slow, letting his fingers trace her jawline as he coaxed her into looking at him. Their gazes held for a second or two, and then Alex lowered his head to capture her lips with his. A lingering kiss that made no demands- rather, one that encouraged Lilith to make a few of her own. He doubted that she was even aware that she’d answered his invitation, arching her body to press against his while teasing the hairs at the nape of his neck.

Alex didn’t waste the opportunity presented to him. He laid her down on the bed, letting his palms and fingertips skim masterfully over her body. Playing with her. Watching as she lost herself in the pleasure of his touch- in the pleasure of letting her hands wander over him. Stealing piece after piece of her self-control. Unable to hold back any longer, Alex vanished his own clothes.

Startled, she jerked away in an attempt to escape. The reaction provoked the predatory side of his nature, and Alex ruthlessly suppressed the instinct to pull her toward him again. _Stay calm. Don’t frighten her,_ he told himself.

“Lilith,” he murmured soothingly, breathing in her scent to help steady himself. “Please don’t be afraid. It’ll be all right. I promise.”

“I’m not, I just-” Color rose in her cheeks and she cast her eyes down. “I wish I weren’t such a trial. This must be very frustrating for you.”

It _was_ frustrating. Alex couldn’t deny it, but he didn’t want her distracted by those thoughts. Didn’t want her focused on anything beyond what he was doing with his hands…his mouth…arousal heated his blood as he allowed himself to imagine the things he would do with his cock. Almost let himself get so carried away that he nearly didn’t answer her. With difficulty, Alex forced himself back to the conversation- if only to find a means of ending it.

“You shouldn’t worry about that.”

Lilith’s gaze snapped up, eyes blazing with smoldering temper.

“If you tell me once more that I shouldn’t worry over something, I could very well throttle you,” she snarled at him, nose almost touching his.

_Well, I suppose that’s_ one _way of overcoming her embarrassment, though I can’t say it was the reaction I intended to get._

Despite the sincerity of her tone, Alex felt the inexplicable tickle of laughter at the back of his throat. Lilith continued to glare at him for a minute or so, and then the lunacy of the threat must have struck her. She rolled her eyes and bit her lip to stifle a giggle of her own. 

“All right, I probably _won’t_ , but I don’t need to hear it again.”

“Then what do you need to hear?”

“I don’t know. I told you I don’t know what I’m doing.”

So she kept saying. But Alex saw the excuse for what it was: A way she could skirt away from the _real_ problem. His lighthearted mood collapsed in on itself, replaced by bitter regret. Why was he so determined to pretend he was something he wasn’t? What was he trying to prove- and to who? Alex steeled himself to tell her that maybe she’d been right about not doing this, but when he finally spoke, the words leaving him went in an unexpected direction.

“Or perhaps I know too much.”

For a moment, she just stared at him in silence. Probably just as taken aback as he was that he’d dare bring up the subject. Finally, she must have decided one of them had to say something.

“Alex, what are you talking about?”

Her eyebrows knit together as if confused- as if she didn’t _know_ what he meant. They both knew what he was, and to have Lilith pretend otherwise put a sharp edge on his temper. He knew he should back away from it. Back away from _all_ of it. But instead of following that advice, Alex was inclined to say the words that had been gnawing at him since he brought her into his room.

His eyes narrowed. No, he wouldn’t just _say_ them; he’d hurl them at Lilith like a weapon. Use them against her. _Hurt_ her.

 _No!_ That furious outcry rose up from deep within and choked him into momentary silence. _You will not do this!_

_Who says I won’t? It’s not like she doesn’t deserve it. It’s her fault I’m upset over two words that never bothered me before I met her._

 _They_ always _hurt us. Every time. You just refused to acknowledge it._

_Liar._

_You’ll regret this. Don’t do it- don’t make a move we can’t take back._

Unconvinced and feeling spiteful, he drowned out the warning in those words as he snarled, “Pleasure slave. I’m a _pleasure_ slave, Lilith. In case you’d forgotten.”

Lilith paled and closed her eyes, but not before he’d already seen anguish filling them.

“No, I haven’t forgotten,” she answered in a small voice, cringing away. Her legs swung over the edge of the bed and she turned her back to him. “And if you’d said it mattered to you _that_ much from the beginning, I wouldn’t have agreed to…” The words trailed away with a wobble. “I think it’s best if I see myself out.”

_Are you happy? Is_ this _what you wanted?_

Alex wasn’t sure _what_ he wanted. Too many different feelings pulled him in too many directions. A moment ago, he’d been so sure that throwing those words in Lilith’s face would have given him some satisfaction. But now…he didn’t feel better; he felt worse. Meanwhile, Lilith had already reached the door to the hallway, stopping to collect the shirt that had been discarded on the floor. She’d halfway gotten it on again by the time Alex crossed the room to stop her.

“Lilith, don’t.”

“No, I really think I should.” He moved to block her path, but Lilith refused to look at him. She thrust her left arm in the other sleeve and pulled the edges closed again. With a half-step to the side, she tried to push past him. “It wasn’t my intent to-”

Alex caught her and didn’t let go.

“I shouldn’t have lashed out that way.”

“You’re right to be angry.”

“Not with _you_.” By her lack of response, he could tell she wasn’t convinced. Alex wondered why _she_ thought she deserved his anger. “Lilith?”

_Say the words._

_What words? Haven’t I said enough already?_

_Tell her_ why _it matters._ Horror filled him as Alex realized what the voice in the back of his mind meant. He couldn’t. Mother Night he couldn’t say _those_ words. Pride wouldn’t let him. _Or will you sacrifice something you want over a matter of pride?_ Baited by the scorn in that last question, Alex found he’d started speaking without having realized it. The words spilled out of him as if uttered by someone else; he wasn’t entirely certain it wasn’t.

“Hell, what can I say? Of _course_ it matters. But-” his breathing hitched in the back of his throat. “You can _never_ understand what it means to be a pleasure slave, Lilith. To be ringed and used in that way. To be…” he stopped short, unable to finish. Unable to admit what he _really_ feared. Didn’t want to see the disgust in her eyes once she knew that he’d been tainted. But even that fear didn’t stop the torrent that followed. “Every damn day of my life is what it is because that’s what _they_ want from me. _Six centuries_. Those bitches own this body and have done whatever they liked with it.”

Alex exhaled and raked a hand through his hair, staring ahead as the memories clawed into him. Dragged him through each and every day. Every second of torture that Meredith and her bitches put him through. His jaw clenched with the effort of driving them back again and put a rough edge in his voice as he railed at it all with an air of self-deprecation, “Do you have any idea what that leaves a man with on the inside? Nothing. Worth. Anything.”

Silence eddied around them in the wake of those words. Not to mention horrified dread as Alex realized what he’d just admitted.

_I shouldn’t have let myself_ think _that, much less say it aloud._

He’d revealed too much- offered too much and left him feeling exposed. Now _he_ avoided Lilith’s eyes and took a step backward. Retreating. Or at least he _tried_ to. Lilith’s hand on his forearm held him in place, even though Alex could have broken her hold easily. They held the tableau for several minutes.

“I don’t believe it,” she countered vehemently. “And neither should you.”

A bitter, incredulous laugh escaped him. He’d thought as she had once, but time had cured him of that idealism. Lilith just hadn’t seen enough of the poison Meredith had spread throughout Hayll to lose hers. Pushing those thoughts aside, Alex forced himself to admit reality.

“A man in my situation can’t afford to forget what he is. Not when he has to answer to those bitches for the rest of his life.”

He’d expected to end the debate there, but then Lilith asked, “What if you didn’t have to? If Meredith didn’t have you chained to her leash anymore- would it be different? Would you want to find out?”

_She’s serious. She’s actually talking about walking away from all this._ Alex suppressed a flash of anger, knowing she had no idea that she was asking for the impossible. Didn’t understand how futile those questions were. _Might as well try to explain it to her, for all the good it’ll do._

“Wanting has little to do with it.”

* * *

**7/Terreille**

Kareal passed through the nearly deserted halls, smiling to herself as her steps lightened. Having finished with her duties for the day, she finally had time to see Dahlen. Had been looking forward to it since she’d forced herself out of his bed early this morning. Hell’s fire, that had been quite the struggle. But who could have blamed her for wanting to stay? Especially when Dahlen exceeded anything she could have imagined when she’d challenged him to come up with a better idea than giving up his bed for her.

Recalling how creative he’d been in carrying out his alternate proposal, Kareal’s cheeks heated.

If not for the worry that the coven would mark her absence, she might have been tempted to ignore her responsibilities. Could have contacted Fawne and asked if she could cover for her today. But even Dahlen had agreed- albeit very reluctantly- that neither of them could afford one of those bitches wondering where she was.As it turned out, they’d been concerned about nothing. Kareal had seen passing glimpses of a few coven favorites throughout the day, but most of them had played least in sight- even Meredith.

_Would that they all just disappeared for good._

An unrealistic fantasy. The coven was just spooked about what happened with that witch yesterday. Kareal knew the hall would be back to normal in another day or two at the most. Which was why she intended to make the most of this pocket of time while it lasted. She knew just where she wanted to begin- by returning the favor for some of the _wonderful_ things Dahlen had done for her last night.

Kareal was imagining just _how_ she intended to thank the Warlord when she ran across two of the very last people she wanted to see: Idrina and Kaeremi. Bitches. Those two were the worst of Meredith’s first circle in her opinion. In some ways, worse than Valinna. They treated their personal servants like dirt and blood males…well, Kareal didn’t like to think on that too much.

The witches stopped talking the moment they saw her. No chance of slipping by unnoticed, and so she slid to a halt and dipped her head in deference to their status. “Ladies.”

Most days, she wouldn’t have received any acknowledgement from either of the witches, but she had a bad feeling that she wouldn’t be so lucky this time. Idrina cast a smug look to Kaeremi before announcing, “What a convenient stroke of luck, Sister. I believe we’ve found the perfect messenger for our errand.”

The other witch mirrored the other witch’s expression and nodded. “I quite agree.”

An errand. Arren and Torie had shared stories of the kinds of ‘errands’ that they’d been required to do on behalf of these two. So had Kirsten and Chenoa, who’d acted as their personal servants before being promoted to the coven’s second circle. Based on their accounts, Kareal could think at least a dozen things these particular women would want from her; she didn’t want to do any of them. But sadly, she didn’t have much of a choice.

“I’d be more than happy to be of assistance. What can I do for you ladies?”

“We need a message delivered- to the pleasure slave quarters.” Kareal’s heart sank as Idrina continued, “The coven is expecting them to provide their regular services this evening. Kaeremi requests Paeter’s presence in her suite _immediately_.” A spiteful meanness glinted in the witch’s eyes. “I want Dahlen.”

Those three words- said in _that_ way- very nearly provoked Kareal into ripping the bitch’s hair out by the roots. A reaction nothing short of suicide. Idrina’s Sapphire Jewels would rip through her Tiger Eye in less time than it would take to draw her next breath. But it didn’t mean that she didn’t have an overwhelming desire to do it, anyway.

With effort, Kareal reined in her thoughts and feelings to force out the words, “I’ll see that it is delivered straight way.”

Satisfied, the coven bitches turned away and resumed their animated conversation without any thought to the misery they’d just inflicted. Leaving her standing frozen in the middle of the hallway, hands clenched into fists at her sides. How could she bear such awful news and live with herself? She knew what those two had planned- what kind of ‘services’ they expected.

_It’s just not fair,_ she railed. _He doesn’t want you. And you don’t really want him, either. But you’ll hurt him just to get your own temporary pleasure._ Kareal closed her eyes in defeat. _He’s going to hate me for this._

No matter what Dahlen would think of her, Kareal knew she couldn’t afford _not_ to deliver the message. Even a minor ‘delay’ would earn swift retaliation. Likely for Paeter and Dahlen just as much as herself. So she made her feet move, once again on her way to the wing reserved for the coven’s blood males. Only this time, her steps marched on with leaden resignation.

Far sooner than she liked, Kareal arrived at her destination. She reached Dahlen’s door and raised one hand to knock. Couldn’t quite bring herself to use the special cadence he’d taught her this morning, feeling that it would be a betrayal to bring _this_ message under the guise of a friend. Her knuckles rapped on the wood three times. Flat. Impersonal. Which likely explained why he didn’t open the door at first. And when he did, he appeared genuinely surprised.

“Kareal! I didn’t realize it as you- did you forget the signal?” She shook her head, unable to speak. Dahlen grew alarmed and drew her inside his room. Kareal stood in place as he closed the door and circled around. “Did something happen- Othar or Larkin weren’t bothering you, were they?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“We must have very different definitions of ‘fine’,” he mused. When she didn’t return his humor, Dahlen’s brow creased with renewed concern. “All kidding aside, Kareal. What’s wrong?”

_Just get it over with._

“I ran into Idrina and Kaeremi on my way here,” she mumbled to the floor. At the mention of the two witches, Dahlen’s whole posture stiffened. “They insisted I bring a message from them.” She exhaled slowly. “For you and Paeter.”

The room rang with deafening silence. No need to relay the actual words; Dahlen would know already what kind of message she’d been told to bring. She couldn’t even say she was sorry, having exhausted the last of her voice before it deserted her. With the hard lump lodged in her throat, she couldn’t have spoken, anyway. It was all she could do to wait until Dahlen broke the strained tension with a comment of his own.

“I had _hoped_ to get more of a reprieve after the upset with Cassel, but I can’t say I’m surprised the bitch wouldn’t let that inconvenience her for more than a night.” Kareal heard the bitterness in his tone, and dared not look up to find it directed at her. Dahlen, though, was having none of it, and tilted her gaze up; his expression held only mild regret. “I’m sorry, Spitfire. But our evening plans will have to be put off for another time.”

She blinked in surprise, unprepared for his reaction.

“You’re apologizing to _me_? Dahlen, why would you even-”

“Because I made a choice and sacrificing tonight is a consequence of that choice. When I made it, though, I hadn’t counted on you paying it with me.”

“I don’t understand. What choice?”

He sat her down on the edge of his bed and took both of her hands. No hint of a smile in his grim expression, so whatever he had to say, she knew it would be serious. Dahlen pressed his forehead against hers and sighed heavily.

“I don’t want to put you at risk, Kareal. If I tell you, and Meredith or the other coven bitches find out…I don’t want to be responsible for what could happen.”

Only one thought came to mind at hearing those words: Rebellion.

“Dahlen…you weren’t actually mixed up in any of what that witch was talking about, were you? About freeing Hayllians from Meredith and the other Queens?” He didn’t answer, which was answer enough. “Mother Night, that’s…you saw what happened to _her_.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Even if it isn’t, I still don’t know how you expected to fight back against them when you’re ringed.”

Dahlen seemed to weigh the pros and cons of some imaginary debate with himself before telling her, “I’m not, actually. My Ring hasn’t worked in four days. None of them do because she’s stolen all of the controlling rings.”

A full minute passed before Kareal could comprehend the words and what they meant. When she did, she almost couldn’t credit them as being true. But then she thought about what happened with Cassel yesterday. The Warlord had attacked Zirah and she hadn’t been able to control him with his Ring. And even if she discounted that as a fluke, she couldn’t brush aside that Idrina should have noticed _something_ was going on last night through her controlling ring. So why hadn’t she?

“How is that even possible,” Kareal murmured. Before Dahlen could reply, she blurted out a far more puzzling question. “And why are you still _here_ , for that matter? Why not leave this place if they can’t force you to stay?” She leaned back with a contentious frown and crossed her arms. “Why even submit to Idrina _at all_ tonight?”

Dahlen tossed her a rueful grin. “Ah, there’s my Spitfire. I knew she’d be back if I pushed the right buttons.”

“I’m _serious_. You don’t have to do this.”

“I do. I told you that I made a choice. As all of us did. We chose to stay and placate the coven until she’s finished her final task. That’s why I have to do this.”

* * *

**8/Terreille**

Lilith heard the hopelessness and pain in his voice- saw both reflected in his downcast eyes; it would have been easier if he’d stayed angry. If Alex hated her for using him as Meredith and so many other witches had used him, she would have done the smart thing and kept walking. Staying would only cause more pain in the end. But the second the façade of his temper crumbled to reveal the deeper soul wounds beneath it, all thoughts of self-preservation melted. Evaporated in the blazing heat of her own anger.

_You bitches,_ Lilith seethed in rage _. You snatched him up, chained him and made him your plaything. Inflicted scar after scar on his heart until he’s convinced he’s less than a person. Until he doesn’t believe he deserves a chance at a different life._

She couldn’t go back and undo what had already been done, but she could at least take the first step in ensuring Meredith couldn’t do any more damage. And while this wasn’t exactly how she’d planned to do it, maybe it was better this way.

“You could be free now,” she told him quietly. “I could do it.”

“No, you _can’t_.”

“I know how-”

“No, you don’t,” he cut her off. “You might know how to release an ordinary Ring of Obedience, but not _mine_.”

The certainty in Alex’s tone gave Lilith pause. She hadn’t heard anything from Meredith or the rest of the coven that would have marked anything unusual about Alex’s Ring. Didn’t mean that he wasn’t right. In fact, it might explain why he hadn’t broken free on his own. The question was- just what had they done to this one…and what would it take for her to undo it?

He must have seen the question in her eyes, and so he went on to explain, “A spell has been worked into it so that it can only be unlocked by a witch who wears the Ebon-gray.”

_Oh hell’s fire._

“Not even Meredith could remove it now. Not even if she _wanted_ to.”

Alex closed his eyes in pain.

“The bloodlines of Hayll are failing. A handful of witches left who wear anything darker than the Opal in the past century. The chances of any witch wearing the Ebon-gray are slim to none. Even if one _might_ , Meredith would kill her before she could make an Offering. There is no hope of escaping this. I’ll spend the rest of my life whored to those bitches until I can’t take it anymore.”

They stood in silence for several minutes as Lilith debated what to do. Well, it wasn’t really so much a _debate_ really; she couldn’t just _not_ free him. It was more a matter of finding the courage to tell him that she _could_. She had been hoping to get through all this without revealing any of her Jewels, and _definitely_ nothing darker than Sapphire. Wasn’t really an option now, was it? Lilith let out a breath.

“Alex, I can do it.”

He was highly skeptical, naturally, and shook his head.

“I think I would have noticed by now if you wore the Ebon-gray.”

_Well, here it goes, then._

Lilith called in her Jewels and unkeyed the illusion spell masking them. Or at least the one for the Ebon-gray. No need to reveal anything _else_ unless absolutely necessary. As it was, she was nervous about going this far. Especially as Alex’s intense stare fixed on the pendant resting just below her collarbone. Its Jewel glittered in the witchlight, caught in a net of silver strands. Finally, his eyes slid up to meet hers; Lilith marked the wary suspicion in them.

“You’re a Black Widow.”

She could have denied it and told him that someone else had created the illusion spell. But even that came with risks- likely far worse than just admitting it. Too many lies to make it work. Lies that would be revealed as such eventually. Lilith let out a reluctant sigh and dropped the sight shield on her right ring finger, revealing the snaketooth that marked her caste as one of the Hourglass Coven. The next part was more difficult; she had to provide him with some kind of explanation.

“It’s not something I advertise openly when I’m in Draega. At least if I want to avoid drawing unwanted attention from Valinna’s direction.”

_Not to mention the_ other _things I don’t advertise when I’m staying here. Or anywhere_ else _, for that matter,_ she added in afterthought.

“That I can understand,” Alex replied in a controlled tone. “Even wearing the Ebon-gray, it’s still wise to be cautious around that bitch. But what I want to know is why you didn’t mention any of this to _me_ , Lilith. Were you even planning to tell me _at all_?”

_No._

She couldn’t say that. Knew better. But she didn’t have much else in the way of alternatives, either. And the longer the silence went on, the less patient he was about waiting for an answer. The wariness in his eyes turned to anger as a chill settled over the room, alerting her that Alex’s temper had shifted- gone cold. If she didn’t shift it back again, he might unleash it on her.

_Better think of something fast, then._

Really, Lilith had only one option.

“I rather hoped that we’d be having this conversation after I’d already gotten you out of Hayll and we were on our way to reunite you with your family.”

It worked. The rage fizzled as quickly as it had appeared and his eyebrows arched in shocked surprise. “ _Family_?”

She nodded.

“It’s why I came here in the first place. Once I’d discovered who you were, I told your sister that I’d find a way to get you out of here- _promised_ her I wouldn’t return unless I had you with me. Granted, when I made that promise _this_ wasn’t part of the bargain.”

“What wasn’t?”

Lilith gestured at the two of them and to the surrounding suite with an exasperated, “ _This_. I mean, I _knew_ Meredith would be pissed off when I let her catch me stealing the Rings in the storage room, but I hadn’t counted on her dosing me with _safframate_. Or that _you_ of all people would wind up in the corridor to interrupt Grael.”

_Hadn’t counted on a_ lot _of things._

As she drew in another breath to keep going, Alex held up a hand. “Back up a minute. She caught you doing _what_?”

“Stealing Rings,” Lilith replied with a half-shrug. “I was swapping all of them out for ordinary gold rings infused with a bit of Craft that makes them _seem_ like the real thing. I’d already taken care of the ones worn by the blood males- well, except _yours_. That was supposed to be the last phase of the plan.”

His expression turned thoughtful, as if something about what she’d said jogged his memory.

“Before I stumbled upon Grael, I heard two servants saying that one of the coven bitches had been attacked by a Warlord. They mentioned that his Ring hadn’t worked. That was because of you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“If you set them all free, then why was he still here? Why are _any_ of them still here?”

“They’re biding me a little time,” she explained quietly. “If they all left right away, Meredith would realize what I’m _really_ up to, and she would have made it twice as hard to get you out of here. I told them I’d send a signal once it was safe for them to slip away, but to lie low until then.”

“Mother Night,” he murmured half to himself.

Lilith looked him square in the eyes, preparing herself to ask the final question. Find out if all this was worth it.

“So, what’s it going to be, Alex- will you let that bitch think she can own you or do you want to live free?”


	8. The  Lure of Oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith starts out by making good on her offer to help rid Alex of his Ring of Obedience. While Lilith's more than a little intimidated and what else needs done, Alex will approach the task with a sense of humor.
> 
> When it's done, he'll ask for her final answer about the Virgin Night; she'll give him the one he wants. Not about to let her change her mind, he'll use all his skills to coax her towards the end that has been building since they met. Achieving that goal, though, comes at a cost. Both of them are being eaten alive by guilt and denial. Guilt over imagined harm that each feels they've done the other; denial when it comes to accepting what each of them really wanted tonight.
> 
> Meanwhile, back to Dahlen and Kareal. The former is doing his best to soothe the latter's temper, but she's convinced Alex will carve Lilith up like a butcher. Dahlen has reason to believe that she'll be fine, and will leave Kareal in order to fulfill his bargain. On the way, he'll have just enough time to give Paeter a head's up about the night's change in plans before arriving at Idrina's suite. Kareal, then, shares her frustration with Fawne, who tries to console her.

**1/Terreille**

Freedom. To not live at Meredith’s beck and call or submit to her coven bitches ever again. Alex had never wanted something so badly in his life- dreamed of it _all_ his life. Could hardly believe that the offer was being made to him, considering how long ago he’d given up all hope it could ever happen. But Lilith was indeed standing before him, offering to be that one chance he never expected to get.

_Does she even know what she’s offering to unleash?_ He doubted it. She had likely assumed that the Red was his Jewel of rank, since he hadn’t noticed the illusion spell hiding her Ebon-gray. _Which begs the question why I_ didn’t _notice it. Because I_ should _have._ As concerning as that was, Alex found himself more preoccupied with a different question. _Do I tell her that my Jewels outrank hers?_

He probably _should_. Lilith ought to know the risk she was taking. On the other hand, Alex was reluctant to take what amounted to a risk of his own by drawing her attention in that direction. She might have second thoughts about relinquishing the only means she had of controlling him. _Or she might not._ In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to find out.

“If there’s a way to escape this place…I want it.”

“All right. I’ll do it, then.”

She closed her eyes and set herself to the task. The Ebon-gray Jewel in her pendant glowed as she tapped into its reservoir of power. Alex didn’t say anything, but noticed that her brow furrowed. Lilith muttered a few choice curses under her breath before opening her eyes. Obviously, something hadn’t gone as expected.

“What?”

He didn’t think she was going to answer at first, but then she mumbled reluctantly, “Well this is just going to be awkward as bedamned.” Not really an explanation; Alex kept his gaze fixed on her until she gave one. “The other Rings could all be keyed by Craft alone. I expected _this_ one would work the same way.”

“Let me guess- it doesn’t?”

“No. I mean, I _do_ need the Ebon-gray to do this, but…”

Another long pause as the sentence trailed off without finishing. He realized that she wasn’t going to complete it on her own, and so he prompted, “But?”

“But it also requires a, um, _physical_ connection.”

_Hence the ‘awkward as bedamned’ comment._ Already, a blush crept up the back of Lilith’s neck and into her cheeks. No doubt from thinking about just what the words ‘physical connection’ implied. On his part, he wasn’t surprised at the turn of events. After all, fitting the Ring on his cock had required the touch of a witch; hardly seemed odd that removing it wasn’t any different. _Doesn’t mean it won’t be any less awkward._

Alex considered how he might help with that and hit upon an idea that might work. With a slightly mischievous curve of his lips, he told her, “Well, I’d tell you that it’s nothing to worry over, but I wouldn’t want you to think you had to make good on your threat.”

She blinked once. Twice.

“You really enjoy dancing on the knife’s edge, don’t you?” With an aggravated sigh, she added somewhat sourly, “Not like it should come as any surprise.”

“Why not?”

Lilith ignored his question to mutter, “All right, time to stop stalling and just do this.”

Easier said than done. Several times she moved a hand towards him, only to freeze in nervous hesitation before lowering it again. Alex waited patiently, even though the anticipation was killing him. But he wouldn’t move, fearing that if he drew any attention to himself she would lose her nerve. As it was, he hardly dared to breathe as her index finger finally slid across the metallic surface of his Ring.

The spell released with a suddenness that shuddered through him and the gold band loosened. Lilith gently slipped it off and laid it on the low blackwood dresser to her left. Alex stared at it for a long time. Lying there, it appeared benign. Harmless. A plain circle of gold that caught the flickering glow of witchlight. Hard to believe that such an innocuous looking thing had been the source of so much suffering for so long. Hard to believe that he’d never have to experience its agonizing misery ever again.

On the heels of that thought, Alex looked askance to the witch who’d freed him from it.

“It’s done,” she said quietly. “They can’t use your body to make you do what they want anymore. You’re free to be whatever you’re meant to be, Alex.”

“And what’s that?”

He’d asked the question, but wasn’t really sure he wanted an answer. Meredith and her coven hadn’t just tortured and raped his body, they’d ripped apart his soul for so long that he wasn’t sure that there was any part of him they hadn’t tainted in some way. He’d meant it when he’d told Lilith that kind of damage didn’t leave a man with anything. And although she’d been adamant that it wasn’t true, Alex couldn’t quite shake the certainty that it was.

_She can’t possibly understand._

_How are you so sure?_

_I just am._

_Look at her- really look- and tell me she doesn’t understand._

Alex did, just to prove to himself that he was right. Lilith must have been waiting for his full attention before answering, because she hadn’t spoken yet. Just regarded him in measuring silence. He found that he couldn’t move under her steady gaze. Something about the way her eyes changed as she studied him- as if she’d stripped away the surface layers and was looking directly into the Self beneath it.

The look faded, leaving in its wake an air of anguished sadness. Oh yes, she understood. And yet…the corners of her mouth turned up slightly in a ghost of a smile as she replied, “That’s up to you now.”

She meant what she said. Truly believed that in spite of what had been done to him that he still had the power to decide. It scared the living hell out of him and left Alex so stunned that he almost didn’t notice that she’d moved until she was halfway into the hall.

He caught hold of her and queried sharply, “Where are you going?”

“I was thinking with that done, then, I’d just- I mean, I’m really feeling much better. So maybe there’s no need to do anything…drastic.”

_You’re lying._ Alex could see the tension building in her already. Removing his Ring had been a temporary distraction that kept it at bay for a little while, but the _safframate_ wasn’t done with her. Lilith was in no better position to fight it alone than she was an hour ago when she’d agreed to having her Virgin Night. _But now you’re not so sure you want to go through with it._

_And whose fault is that?_

His, but Alex didn’t really need the self-lecture right now.

“Lilith, what I said before- it doesn’t change the offer I made to you. Or that you really need to take it. The _safframate_ isn’t going to let up.” She said nothing, posture rigid beneath his hands. Alex saw it in her face; he wasn’t fixing this. Foolish to even try. And so, resigned, he offered up a choice that would likely end with her walking away. “Tell me you don’t want to do this and I’ll let you go.”

* * *

**2/Terreille**

If he’d wanted to rile her up, Dahlen had gotten his wish. Fire burned in her eyes as Kareal’s temper ignited. She couldn’t even sit still, rising to her feet to pace the closet-sized room. As she did so, she gestured at the door with one hand.

“What task do you think she’s going to do? Meredith caught her stealing from the store room. From what I heard, she and Valinna did a fair job of prying into her inner web before they dosed her with _safframate_ and gave her Grael.”

“I know, but-”

“Who would have been bad enough, but then _DeSade_ stepped in to take his place. I’m telling you that you’re wasting your time believing she’s going to be of any use to you at this point, Dahlen. That witch is most likely dead.”

The woman sure knew how to lecture. And he’d love nothing more than to stay here to put all that energy to good use, but he just didn’t have time. If he didn’t get moving, Idrina would get suspicious that her message was not delivered as promised. Dahlen rose from the bed and caught up Kareal with both hands.

“I don’t have time to go into all the details, but trust me, it’s not a fool’s errand I’m on. Have just a little faith in me. Please?” She glowered for several seconds before relenting. Not by much, but she didn’t look as though her next retort might strip the hide off him. Dahlen pushed forward. “I have to go. Remember, you need to go pass on the message to Paeter from Kaeremi.”

“I _guess_ so.”

“And in the meantime…”

He wrapped his arms round Kareal and drew her close. Her temper melted away as she ducked her head shyly, shoulder-length hair covering her face. Just as she’d done last night. Dahlen had thoroughly enjoyed overcoming that natural shyness to discover the passionate woman hiding behind it. He had been looking forward to doing even better tonight. But since his obligations put him elsewhere, he’d have to content himself with this.

He nudged her chin up and captured her lips in a teasing kiss. Meant to keep it light, but then Dahlen just couldn’t help himself. His fingers threaded into her hair and slanted his mouth across hers with single-minded possession. Damn near forgot about Idrina and everything else until sanity kicked in a minute- he _hoped_ it had only been a minute- later. Reluctantly, Dahlen released her and took a step back.

“That should fuel your imagination for what I plan to do when all this is done.”

Kareal’s expression remained slightly dazed, eyes passion-dark. Pleased that he could excite her so quickly, he risked another brief kiss before guiding her to the door. It wasn’t until they’d taken a step or two into the hallway before she’d gathered enough of her wits to aim an arch glance in his direction and declare, “Don’t think you can use that tactic to win every argument.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dahlen left her to deliver the coven’s message to Paeter. Only after he’d turned the corner did he allow himself to focus on the task ahead, not wanting her to see how much he dreaded it. And dread it Dahlen most certainly did. He hadn’t lied to Kareal; he was committed to playing this role for just a little while longer. But that didn’t mean that he found it easy. Especially after knowing what it was like to be with a witch he truly wanted. To go back to servicing Idrina after that…

_I can do this. I can survive one more night._

Survival meant banishing all thoughts of Kareal. Empty his mind of any thoughts at all and become emotionally numb. Dahlen had learned quickly after being ringed that men who couldn’t learn to detach themselves from the degrading violation inflicted upon them rarely lived more than a handful of years. If that. And even the ones who did endured far worse treatment- in and out of the bedroom.

Halfway down the hall, Dahlen ran into Paeter. Surprised to see the Warlord out of his room, he rocked back a step. For his part, Paeter looked equally startled. After a moment of silence while he regained his mental balance, he remarked cautiously, “Dahlen. Didn’t expect to see you this far from our wing of the hall.”

“Likewise.” His gaze landed on the bundle in Paeter’s hands. If he took into account the direction he’d come from. “I’m guessing you were planning a private meal in your room tonight.”

“Fawne said she could get away early, so…” Something must have shown on Dahlen’s face, because the Warlord trailed off without finishing. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

“Only what we were hoping wouldn’t happen.”

“So you’re-”

“On my way to Idrina’s suite.”

Paeter’s jaw clenched. After a second or two had passed, he replied tightly, “And I assume I am expected in Kaeremi’s.”

“The sooner the better.”

A reluctant sigh.

“Well, I should at least drop this off in my room or Fawne will worry. Should I have her pass along a message to Kareal?”

“She already knows.”

Paeter raised an eyebrow. “From your tone, I’ll venture to guess that she was none too pleased about it.”

“Not one bit. Nor was she overly thrilled with my reasons for going through with this, but-”

“Reasons? Just what did you tell her?” The Warlord glanced around before leaning close to whisper quietly. “Dahlen, we said we’d keep the ladies out of this.”

His friend was right. The blood males who’d all gone into this agreement had done so with the understanding that none of them would mention it to the witches serving the hall. Hadn’t been a difficult bargain to make. Most of the blood males kept as pleasure slaves had little interaction with anyone outside of the coven- or their pet warlords, Othar and Larkin. The few who did, however, knew the stakes they were risking, and couldn’t ask their friends and lovers to take the same risk without any of the benefits.

_After all, when this is over, Paeter and I will be free of this place; Kareal and Fawne won’t be._

_You could ask Kareal to go with you,_ he argued against himself.

_And offer her_ what _exactly? If everything goes as planned, I’ll be a wanted fugitive by this time tomorrow. I won’t even have a copper mark to call my own._

“Dahlen?”

Apparently, he’d been thinking longer than he realized, and so he answered with a wry shrug, “Easier said than done, my friend. Kareal was quick to figure out enough of what was going on without me having to tell her anything, and I’m fairly certain she’ll pass all of it onto Fawne before you get there.”

“Fair enough,” Paeter replied with a reluctant nod. While the other man wasn’t exactly _happy_ , he couldn’t refute the point. “And just how much did she figure out?”

“She knows the Rings don’t work and a few details about why we’re all still here. Wasn’t time to go into anything more.”

“And if the summons from the coven bitches was as urgent as you implied, I won’t be able to do much better.”

“I’ll try to buy you a little time,” Dahlen said. “But if I’m going to do that, I should be on my way.”

They parted company. He wished his friend luck with the ladies. And with Kaeremi. Meanwhile, he picked up his pace and cut through the hall to reach Idrina’s suite in record time. Taking a deep breath, Dahlen steadied himself to knock respectfully on the door. Ignored the sick dread coiling in the pit of his belly as footsteps approached from the other side.

Idrina pulled open the door a moment later. Her eyes raked him up and down, a predatory smile curving her lushly painted lips. She was wearing one of her favorite ensembles- filmy layers of transparent silk that flattered her svelte figure. A fool might assume she wore it as an enticement for her bed partner. Dahlen knew better; the narcissistic bitch wore it for herself.

Even so, he understood what he was expected to say. Unless he wanted to suffer from the outset, he would pay the _appropriate_ compliments that Idrina felt were her due. Better to placate her vanity and make it as convincing as possible.

“My Lady- I couldn’t have thought such beauty possibly existed, but you have proved me wrong yet again.”

Empty words, but she gloated over them all the same. With one hand still on the door frame, she advanced a step into the hall and splayed the other against his chest. Dahlen resisted the instinctual desire to recoil from her touch. Or worse. In his mind, he envisioned ripping the hand off and listening to the bitch wail in agony. Dangerous thoughts to be having, even when Idrina no longer had the ability to monitor him through his Ring. She could still read the expression in his eyes.

Fortunately for him, she didn’t- or she just dismissed any hostility lurking there in the interest of getting to what she wanted. Although she did toss her head with an arch look as she pouted, “And here, I was almost growing concerned that you weren’t interested in performing your duties. I sent my messenger quite a while ago.”

The words were delivered casually enough, but he heard the threat beneath them and the danger they implied. For him and for Kareal. He smiled at her and shook his head, seeing an opportunity to dispel any suspicion on her end and to buy Paeter the some much-needed time. Provide her with story that would sound just plausible enough without incurring too many questions.

“Not at all, Lady. Paeter and I were having a late dinner in the kitchen, and so it took longer for your messenger to find us. For that, we sincerely apologize.”

Idrina mulled over his answer for a half-minute or so, pretending to debate whether or not she believed him. Dahlen doubted she even cared one way or another, but she put on a show. Again, only until she grew impatient to get on with her evening. The smile was back soon enough as she played with the collar of his shirt, undoing the top several buttons before sliding her hand inside. A particularly calculating look glinted in her eyes.

“Well, then. Apology accepted, Warlord. And now that you are here, why don’t we make up for lost time.”

She withdrew and gestured to the low-lit suite behind her. Despite knowing what awaited him inside, Dahlen took a step forward.

_The last time,_ he reminded himself. _She promised that this would be_ last _time._

* * *

**3/Terreille**

For a minute or two, Lilith truly thought she could walk away. It was the right thing to do, even if Alex would tell her that it wasn’t. Damned stubborn Warlord Prince that he was, he’d insist on seeing this through. No matter the cost to himself. But after what he’d said about being a pleasure slave, how could she even _think_ about asking him to do anything more for her than he’d already done?

Lilith opened her mouth to tell him the four words that would release him from the obligation; they stuck in the back of her throat. After several tries, she cast her eyes down, feeling disappointed with herself as she whispered a _different_ four words instead.

“I can’t say it.”

_Not smart, Lilith. What are you thinking,_ she berated herself.

 _You’re thinking that you want him,_ an amused voice chimed in from the back of her mind.

 _It’s the_ safframate _,_ she denied quickly. _You heard Alex- there’s no getting through this any other way._

_You keep telling yourself that, but we both know it’s not true. Why are you so afraid to admit that you want something?_

Lilith knew the answer to that question, but dared not utter it- not even to herself.

Alex, meanwhile, had already drawn her back into the room. His fingers slipped beneath the open collar of the silk shirt and deftly eased it over her shoulders. It fell to the floor with little more than a whisper, leaving her naked once more. As one hand traced the curve of her spine down to her waist, the other gently tilted her chin back up until her gaze met his. Lilith wasn’t sure what to make of his expression.

“Then that settles it- you’re staying right here.”

She wasn’t given the opportunity to protest as he swept her from the ground and carried her back to the bed. Alex laid Lilith down carefully before sliding in next to her. They were so close that she could hear the steady beat of his heart. A much calmer rhythm than her own, which pounded wildly against her ribcage. Lilith closed her eyes.

_Mother Night…I don’t know if I can do this._

_Yes you can._

_But, I-_

_You trust him, don’t you?_

“Relax and let go, Lilith,” Alex murmured, interrupting her thoughts as he trailed kisses along the line of her throat. “Let me lead you to the end of this dance.”

He cradled the back of her head in his palm while the other slowly drew her even closer. A dance, he’d called it. Was he expecting her to contribute any steps? Did she dare to find out? Hesitantly, she laid a trembling hand against his chest; the muscles contracted beneath her fingers, but Alex didn’t tell her to stop.

Her fingertips skimmed the ridge of his collarbone of their own accord. This time, no voice in her head warned her to be cautious. Quite the opposite. Lilith followed the line upward to the slope of his shoulder, compelled by a need to touch him. She bent her neck, letting her hair fall against his bare skin. Warm breath whispered in her ear. No words, just a ragged sound that sent shivers through her.

Blindly, she turned to him. His teeth nipped playfully at her bottom lip, a prelude before his tongue swept into her mouth in earnest. Lilith’s back arched and she moaned as her breasts, hypersensitive to the touch, pressed against him. Torture, maddeningly _delicious_ torture. Each teasing brush tightened her nipples until they ached. Pleasure spiraled past her self-control before she could summon the will to reach for it.

_Let go, Lilith._

Their positions shifted without her even being aware of it happening. Lilith on her back; Alex leaning over her. While her hands trailed errantly down the broad sweep of his back, his slipped between her thighs. She could no more protest than cease breathing. And when he eased a finger into the tight, slick pocket of her core, Lilith drew a shuddering gasp. A gasp that ended in an impassioned cry as Alex added a second digit.

“Mother Night, I- _Alex_.”

She didn’t know the expression that filled his eyes when he heard her call his name- didn’t have words to describe it. He withdrew his hand, eliciting a low, rumbling snarl from her. It was all the encouragement that he needed to hear. With one knee, Alex gently nudged her legs apart and fit the curve of his hips to hers. The rigid length of his cock pressed urgently against her, an unspoken demand that set Lilith’s heartbeat to racing.

_Hell’s fire, this is really going to happen._

Alex kept his movements slow- _tantalizingly_ slow- as his shaft filled her, inch by careful inch. Took them right to the brink and left her wanting so much more. But he held back just before taking the next step. The _final_ step.

His eyes sought hers and he whispered, “This will hurt.”

A half-second passed, but Lilith didn’t tell him to stop. His lips feathered along the bridge of her nose before capturing hers in a searing kiss meant to distract her from what would come next. And then Alex thrust forward- more forcefully this time- to tear through her maidenhead. The pain was instantaneous, spiraling out from her core. Lilith cried out despite her determination not to, breaking the kiss to bury her face in the crook of his shoulder.

 _It will pass soon,_ she tried to assure herself as half-choked sobs scraped past the knife lodged in her throat. _Just a few more minutes._

* * *

**4/Terreille**

Alex held perfectly still, even though it cost him dearly to chain the desire throbbing in his blood. He desperately wanted to give it rein and bury himself between Lilith’s thighs until he brought them both over the edge of ecstasy. But he wouldn’t. Dare. Move. After what he’d just done, he’d suffer whatever he had to before hurting her again. Dammit, she was _crying_.

_Wouldn’t be the first time a witch has cried on your account._

It wasn’t even the _hundredth_ time. Alex had lost count of how many witches had screamed and begged him for mercy over the centuries- ever since Meredith put that cursed Ring on him. Never once felt the slightest remorse for the way he’d hurt them. Quite the opposite; he had reveled in it. They’d inflicted pain and suffering without feeling any guilt, so why should he? So no, their tears hadn’t hurt him.

But Lilith’s…Mother Night, the sound was worse than any torture he’d known.

_At least this time I_ deserve _it._

“I’m sorry.” His fingers stroked her hair as he murmured words of apology; Alex thought them inadequate, but had nothing better to offer. “I’m so sorry.”

“The worst has passed.”

He wasn’t sure he believed her, but Lilith’s breathing gradually steadied. Her eyes were still tear bright, though, when she finally drew back enough that he could see her face. Alex gently brushed away the ones shimmering on her cheek with the pad of his thumb, unsure what to do next. Wasn’t sure she _wanted_ him to do anything else. He gathered up what was left of his courage to find out.

“Lilith- I know what I promised you, but I’m not sure what will happen if I go on.” After a slight pause, he asked, “Are you certain you want to take the risk that the pain will only get worse?”

She remained silent for several minutes. Long enough that Alex was sure he could guess her answer.

“No,” she said at last. Just as he expected. Her next words, however, caught him by surprise. “But I _am_ willing to gamble that maybe it’ll get better.”

No small gamble. Alex wondered why Lilith was willing to take it. Wondered, but didn’t ask. Instead, he focused all his attention on ensuring that her faith in him wasn’t misplaced. While his hips remained still, he used his hands and mouth to reawaken her passion. He fondled, petted and teased until she finally rewarded him with a contented sigh. Only then did he withdraw and slide into her with a measured stroke.

Lilith’s hands glided over his shoulders as she moaned softly, “Mother Night.”

Encouraged by her response, he moved again. This time, her fingers threaded into his hair of their own volition, pulling him close for an ardent kiss that stole his breath away. _Very encouraging, indeed._ Alex slipped his arms beneath the arch of her lower back and groaned as the change in angle drove him that much deeper. Hell’s fire, she was so tight and wet and… _warm_. Glorious heat that surrounded him and eroded what was left of his self-control.

_Mine_ , he asserted as he laid claim to her body with blatant possession. _Tonight, Lilith, you’re_ mine _._

Spurred on by that need, Alex quickened the tempo of his thrusts. She met them, hips rising with an answering urgency as she refused to remain still. Or silent, if her growls of impatience and pleasure-filled cries were any indication. He reveled in listening to them, knowing that he was the cause. Gradually, a tell-tale tightening rippled through her body, which, in turn, gripped his cock tighter than a fist.

_Almost there._

They were _so_ _close_ to reaching that final release, but Alex sensed that she was fighting it. He raised his lips from hers a fraction.

“Trust me, Lilith,” he urged her. “Let yourself go.”

“I’m not sure I-”

The rest of her sentence was lost as his tongue danced with hers. He knew what she’d been about to say; she thought the _safframate_ was the cause. Yesterday, she would have been right. Today, she just needed a little help to tip her over that edge. Alex knew just the thing that would get her there. Decided to use it without even stopping to think about what he was doing.

Phantom touch.

Not quite the same as a Shadow, which required a tangled web, but more than a simple illusion. Far more subtle, too. He shaped Craft into a perfect replica of his own hand and let it slide between their bodies. Down past her belly to the triangle of curls. Lilith drew in a shuddering breath as questing fingers sought the satiny skin below. They traced an explicit- and private- message to her body in languid whorls while his cock rode the answering buck of her hips. Rode the rise to the summit of pleasure until she crested.

“Alex!” she screamed, helplessly awash in pleasure as her body shuddered beneath his.

“Yes,” he ground out, still thrusting. Not wanting it to end. “Oh Mother Night, Lilith, _yes_.”

The end did come, though. A half dozen strokes and then Alex followed her into oblivion. A rush of fulfillment beyond anything he’d ever experienced or thought possible. Absolute surrender. He floated on the eddies in its wake for some time before awareness drifted back to him by degrees. The room, the bed, the woman beneath him.

Lilith hadn’t recovered quite as quickly, still too caught up in her own surrender to have regained her self-control. Or to regain something _else_ Alex doubted she’d intended to lose: An illusion spell. In addition to the ones she’d already revealed, Lilith had been maintaining another she’d failed to mention. But it was swept away now, and Alex was coming to terms with the knowledge that he hadn’t taken an Ebon-gray witch to bed. He’d taken an Ebon-gray _Queen_ to bed.

_Why didn’t you tell me, Lilith?_

A stupid question for him to be asking. He knew why she likely kept _this_ particular secret from him. Revealing that she was a Black Widow was one thing, but after what he’d told her about Meredith and her coven, Lilith was wise to be cautious when it came to the subject of Queens. Had he known she belonged to that caste before taking her to bed…Alex was forced to admit that he may have seen the Queen first and the woman second.

_And now that I_ do _know- what am I going to do about it?_ Several minutes passed and he was no closer to having an answer. Then the slightly unfocused look faded from Lilith’s eyes, narrowing his window to make that decision. A few seconds more and the illusion spell rekeyed itself to leave him staring down at a witch again. As if he’d only imagined the Queen in the first place. _So let’s just leave it at that, then, and do nothing._

“Hell’s fire,” Lilith murmured. “That was quite the gamble.”

From his perspective, Alex thought it had paid off; he wasn’t quite able to ask Lilith if she felt the same. With a wordless nod and what he hoped passed for a smile, he withdrew and rolled away from her. Only then did he notice the blood. So much blood. On the sheets. On _him_. Alex froze with horror, memories of her in pain, crying, resurfaced.

_Mother Night- what have I done?_

Lilith looked before he could stop her. She paled and swallowed carefully. “I had no idea it would be so…”

“It’s the dark Jewels you wear. It’s always worse the darker they are.”

He’d said the words with conviction, but they rang hollow in his ears nonetheless. Alex was sure that Lilith wasn’t any more convinced by them. A beat of silence passed before she seemed able to reply. Not surprisingly, she skirted the worst to redirect her focus to something she could face. Her gaze remained on the bloodied sheets.

“These are most likely ruined.” Alex snarled when her hand stretched out, startling both of them. Lilith froze in place. A second later she shook her head and mused warily, “Obviously that set off something, so we won’t be doing anything with _those_ until tempers calm down a bit.”

He couldn’t settle, no matter how hard he tried. Not with her there. Alex offered a suggestion that he hoped she would take.

“Why don’t you shower? I’ll take care of this.”

“But I cou-”

“No.” Alex cut off her protest mid-word, grinding out between clenched teeth, “It reminds me of what I had to do to you. Just let me deal with it on my own.”

A beat of silence. Lilith’s gaze dropped to her lap for a second- only a second- but Alex felt somewhat uneasy when she looked at him again.

“I understand.”

* * *

**5/Terreille**

When she heard the knock at Paeter’s door, Fawne wasn’t expecting to see Kareal standing on the other side. Especially as she didn’t see Dahlen with her. And taking in her friend’s expression, she became instantly alarmed at what that could mean. She hadn’t seen Kareal since leaving her with the Warlord yesterday evening, and hadn’t been able to set her mind at ease. Not even with Paeter’s repeated assurances that the witch would be safe. And to have her coming here at _this_ time of night…

“Kareal- what’s wrong? Is everything-” she hesitated before continuing- “okay…with you and Dahlen?”

The witch appeared puzzled at first until she realized how the situation must look from Fawne’s perspective. She shook her head emphatically and said, “We’re fine. We’re, um-” Kareal blushed, a tell-tale sign that ‘fine’ was an understatement- “ _really_ fine.”

The tight knot of worry eased a bit. Whatever had brought her friend to Paeter’s door, it didn’t appear to be on Dahlen’s account. But if she and the Warlord were contented with one another, then what _was_ she doing here? Fawne raised an eyebrow as she decided to find out the answer.

“If that’s so, then why aren’t you knocking on _his_ door?”

Kareal’s dreamy look evaporated, leaving behind an anguished grimace.

“I was given a message to deliver. Is Paeter here?”

“No, but he should be back soon. He was fetching dinner for the two of us.” Fawne furrowed her brow. “Why? Who is the message from?”

“Kaeremi,” the witch replied flatly.

“Oh.”

_Well, there goes our plans for the evening if that greedy bitch is asking after him for tonight._

“Do you mind if I wait inside,” Kareal asked. “I’d rather not be so conspicuous out in the open.”

Fawne stepped aside to admit her friend into the room. After a quick look down the hall just to be sure she didn’t see Paeter on his way, she closed it again and turned around. Kareal was pacing a tight circuit around the room, fidgeting with nervous energy. As if she couldn’t stand still. Agitated. Fawne was fairly certain she knew why.

“I’m guessing a similar message came for Dahlen, then.”

“Yes.”

“And he’s already answered the summons.”

“Just left,” Kareal answered through clenched teeth. “Said he knew what he was doing, but I still think he’s lost his mind.”

She felt for the witch. She really did. It wasn’t easy to accept sharing your lover with another woman, even if he wasn’t bedding her willingly. Fawne had wrestled often against her own jealousies in the past few weeks, and had learned a hard lesson when she’d thrown those feelings at Paeter in anger. The resulting argument had only served to cause needless pain on both sides over a situation neither of them could control.

Seeking to spare her friend the same heartache, she advised gently, “If you intend to make things work with Dahlen, you’re going to have to let go of those kinds of feelings. It’s not like he has any choice.”

“Yes, he does.”

The words were vehemently spoken. So much so that Fawne was taken aback in the radical change that had come over her usually timorous friend. Just what had happened since yesterday? She couldn’t fathom the answer to that question, but she did think it wise to put the situation in perspective for the witch. Obviously, she was letting her emotions cloud her good sense.

“If you think resisting is an option, remember what happened to Cassel. Or any of the others before him. Idrina will punish him with the Ring, and then she’ll dose him with _safframate_ for good measure. If Dahlen’s _lucky_ , that’s where it will end. But if that bitch truly wants to make him suffer, she’ll do far worse.”

Fawne had spent enough time serving Meredith’s coven to have seen just how cruel those bitches could be. She’d seen warlords whipped so badly that their backs were flayed open; most died from their wounds. Scores of them had been broken. But nothing- _nothing_ \- was worse than the ‘parties’ the coven held where they shaved a male who had disobeyed one time too many.

She shuddered at the memory of the malicious glee in their taunts as a helpless victim struggled against the blades carving into his flesh. Meredith ensured that the warlords were kept conscious by brews and Valinna’s Black Widow Craft. No hope of escape and only the crushing knowledge of the hell that awaited them even after the maiming was over drove many men into the madness of the Twisted Kingdom. Witnessing it was the stuff of nightmares.

Nightmares that Fawne knew Kareal had seen for herself. Hopefully, the reminder would convince the witch of the folly in asking Dahlen to risk any of that. If she truly cared for him, she wouldn’t. Judging by the lengthy silence that followed, maybe Kareal was willing to concede the point.

“The Rings don’t work.”

Not exactly the response Fawne had been expecting.

“What do you mean they ‘don’t work’?”

“I mean that the thing with Cassel wasn’t just a fluke. _None_ of the Rings work and haven’t for several days.”

She shook her head slowly and demanded, “Who told you this?”

“Dahlen.” After a slight pause, Kareal continued, “That servant witch Meredith caught in the store room? He said she’d already stolen the coven’s controlling rings and fixed it so that none of their Rings actually worked.”

Fawne struggled to keep her jaw from scraping the floor. The sheer audacity of the witch to conceive of such a plan- much less to carry it out- was beyond insane. How had she even managed to steal right from under the coven’s nose without any of them suspecting?

“I don’t believe it.”

“I wouldn’t have, either, but how _else_ do we explain Cassel? You were there when he attacked Zirah. You said it yourself that she panicked because his Ring wasn’t working. Everyone- the coven included- wanted to shrug it off and hasn’t said a word about it since. But I think they suspect something’s gone wrong with the Rings and don’t want to admit it.”

The hall had been very quiet on the subject since yesterday. Fawne hadn’t seen any of the coven emerge from their suites until well after midday- and never alone. She’d assumed they were keeping to themselves to avoid Meredith, but in light of what Kareal just said… _maybe_ it wasn’t altogether too far-fetched to think that the crazy witch _could_ have pulled off the scheme.

“All right. Let’s say I believe you and the Rings are useless. That doesn’t explain why Paeter, Dahlen and the others haven’t just fled the hall the moment the coven’s back was turned. You have to admit that since yesterday, they’ve had plenty of opportunities to disappear. So why haven’t they?”

“Because they’re morons,” Kareal snarled. “Waiting for something that has zero chance of happening.”

“I see I’ve picked a bad time to join the conversation,” Paeter remarked drily from the doorway. Fawne and Kareal spun around to face him, startled. He held up the covered bundle in his hands and mused, “Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. Dahlen did warn me that you weren’t exactly on board with all this.”

“Paeter,” Fawne began before her friend could get a word in. “Is what Kareal said true? About the Rings.”

“Yes, love, it’s all true.”

A myriad of thoughts passed through her mind, but Fawne focused on one in particular. She fixed him with a searching look and said quietly, “You could have fled the hall and disappeared into the city days ago- left Hayll entirely if you’d wanted to.”

“I could have.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.”

She wanted to think that he’d stayed for her sake. That he hadn’t left because he wanted to be with her no matter the cost. Maybe that was part of the reason, but Fawne suspected that it wasn’t the _whole_ reason. To prove it, she forced herself to bring up the most compelling evidence why it couldn’t be.

“And if I’m not mistaken, you’ll answer Kaeremi’s summons just like Dahlen answered Idrina’s.”

“Yes, I will.”

Dumbfounded and somewhat hurt, Fawne could only respond with an incredulous, “ _Why_?”

“Because we promised not to raise the coven’s suspicions until she’d finished with what she came here to do.”

Fawne cut a look to Kareal and back. No doubt the ‘she’ Paeter meant was the servant witch who’d run afoul of Meredith. Her friend’s barbed comment was starting to make a lot more sense. Whatever the witch may have _planned_ to do, she had no hope of accomplishing it after being drugged with that much _safframate_. Two spoonfuls, she’d overheard. And then to be given to DeSade…

“Paeter, I would think you of all people would be realistic. DeSade doesn’t play by anyone’s rules- not even Meredith’s- when it comes to witches. There won’t be anything left of that witch come morning. If she isn’t dead already. If you truly are free as you claim, you might as well cut your losses instead of waiting.”

Paeter sighed.

“Raenel can handle DeSade.” He handed his bundle to Fawne. “I _really_ have to go, but I promise Dahlen and I will explain tomorrow. All right?”

He didn’t wait for her to reply, slipping back into the hall even before she’d gotten hold of the covered dish he’d likely pilfered from the kitchen. When he’d gone, she turned to Kareal.

“What do you suppose he meant by that- that she could ‘handle DeSade’?”

“No idea. He wears the Ebon-gray, so to have any leverage against him she’d have to wear something equally dark, and I find that impossible to believe.”

“You don’t suppose…” Fawne trailed off for a moment, almost unwilling to finish her thought.

“Suppose what?”

“Dahlen told you that Raenel stole all of the controlling rings. If he’s right, then that means she has DeSade’s.”

* * *

**6/Terreille**

Lilith understood all too clearly. Alex’s words rang in her ears- what he _had_ to do to her. An unwelcome reminder that he hadn’t really wanted to do this. She tried not to feel bruised. After all, she’d been telling herself from the beginning that’s all this could ever be, hadn’t she? Just one night of pleasure to be followed by a lifetime of regret. Well, she’d gotten more than she bargained for on the former; it was time to accept the pain from the latter.

_Are you so certain that’s how this needs to end?_

_Yes, I am. You heard what he said._

_I’m wondering if_ you _did,_ the voice in her head argued back stubbornly. _Or did you just hear what you_ wanted _to hear?_

_What else could he have meant?_

_I don’t know- perhaps you should ask_ him _that._

“Lilith?”

She jolted at the sound of her name and realized that she must have been quiet for longer than she thought. Somewhat unnerved by Alex’s mildly concerned expression, she cleared her throat and forced out a sharp, “What?”

“Were you going to shower?”

“I suppose that would be a good idea.” She glanced around. “Where?”

He pointed to a door opposite the way they’d come in and said, “Just through there.”

Lilith scooted to the edge of the bed and stood. A trickle down the inside of her leg made her hurry across the room more quickly than she would have liked. She slipped through the door and closed it behind her. Once out of his sight, she took inventory of herself. Pinkish rivulets of blood spidered down to her left knee. Mildly unpleasant. But other than that, not much cause for concern.

_I should be thanking the Darkness for that. This night could have gone so much worse._ And she wasn’t just thinking in terms of injuries. Lilith considered herself lucky that while her self-control had failed, her remaining illusions had not. They could have- _should_ have, actually. But they’d held. _Somehow_. If they hadn’t, and Alex had somehow found out what she was… _I simply can’t go through it all again. Once was bad enough._

With a sigh more resigned than relieved, she stepped into the shower and turned on the water. It sluiced over her skin for several minutes while she tried to let go of thoughts of tonight- _all_ of them. Tried, but failed miserably. Lilith gave up and called in her soap, working it into a lather that she rubbed liberally into her hair and on her skin. She’d nearly finished when her body clenched. 

The _safframate_.

Alex had warned her that it would be back when the distractions faded. Bracing her hands against the wall, Lilith gritted her teeth and waited for the spasm to pass. Thankfully, he was also right about the sex; it had taken some of the edge off. When the drug finally released her, she shut the water off and reached for a nearby towel to dry herself.

Not a moment too soon, it would seem, as Alex walked into the room. A quick glance told her that whatever he’d been doing in the bedroom, getting dressed hadn’t been on his list of priorities. Lilith quickly turned her attention to wringing the excess water from her hair so she wouldn’t be tempted to stare at him. Or do something stupid…like throw herself into his arms.

_Unlikely he’s here for anything like_ that _._

Question was- what _was_ he here for? Alex hadn’t spoken a word to her, just standing inside the door. Most likely, having dealt with the bedding he’d come in to shower as well. But he just _stood_ there. Watching her with a hooded expression. Lilith found the scrutiny unnerving, and hastily escaped the suite just as it looked like Alex might say something.

He didn’t follow her.

The sound of running water suggested that it would be a while, and so she cautiously took in the room around her. The bed drew her attention first- more like _demanded_ it. Lilith’s eyes drifted over the indigo coverlet that had been smoothed over a set of charcoal sheets. If she’d only just walked in, she would have assumed it had been empty this whole evening. Like a blank slate.

_Would that it worked that way for more than just sheets,_ she lamented wistfully.

_Is that_ really _what you want, though? To move forward and pretend that nothing happened?_

With a cynical smile, Lilith repeated Alex’s words. _Wanting has little to do with it._

 _Wanting has_ everything _to do with it, or you never would have entered this room-_ safframate _or not._

Thoughts like that served only to reinforce her guilt. A reminder of how selfish she’d been to satisfy her wants and needs at Alex’s expense. Lilith pushed past it, determined not to repeat that misstep as she called in some of her clothes. With the _safframate_ wearing off, she might be able to tolerate wearing them. Not to mention, Alex would certainly appreciate it if she spared him the sight of her now that he’d fulfilled his part of their bargain.

She’d just settled on something when Lilith heard footsteps approach from behind.

“What are you doing,” he demanded sharply enough that she dropped the tunic onto the bedspread. She was so startled by the question that she didn’t even have time to respond before Alex had turned her to face him, hands gripping her shoulders. “Lilith, you’re not going anywhere.”

Leaving hadn’t been her original intention. But now that Alex brought it up, maybe that wasn’t the worst of ideas. His Ring had been dealt with and the _safframate_ was mostly under control. Given the hour, very unlikely to run into trouble from Meredith and her coven as they quietly slipped out. A far better plan when compared to the awkwardness of waiting out the night here.

_And then I can see Alex delivered to his family and get on with my life._

“Think about it, Alex- why not leave,” she countered, hoping to convince him to agree with her. “You’re free of Meredith now and I can deal with the _safframate_ so long as I’ve got a task to focus my attention. If we slip out of here tonight, we could reach your family in two days.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he repeated in a low, deadly calm voice as another shield went up inside the Red. Not Black, but not quite Ebony, either. A Jewel that straddled the line between- the Ebon-Black.

Clearly, they had differing opinions about what made the most sense. Lilith was forced to take a mental step back and weigh her options. He likely thought that he’d ended the debate, but she could still get her way…if she was willing to tell Alex that an Ebon-Black shield couldn’t stop her from leaving if she really decided to go. Not ideal. By a long shot. And even if she _was_ willing to reveal that much, she suspected something more than the general stubbornness natural to Warlord Princes was driving him to draw this particular line.

_Better to just ride this out and leave in the morning._

“Okay, fine. Forget I even brought it up.”

His mood lightened almost immediately, and he gestured with one hand to the clothes still lying on the bed and queried, “Then why bother with these?”

_Because I don’t trust myself without them._

Words she couldn’t say to Alex, and so she shrugged and slid her gaze away; he brought it back to him, frowning slightly while assuring her, “You don’t have to be worried about spending the night here.”

“I’m not _worried_.” _Not for my own sake, anyway._ “I’m just- look, I’m exhausted and…” she sighed, running distracted fingers through her damp hair. “I dunno.”

His hands skimmed soothingly over her arms. Lilith had to quell the accompanying trill of pleasure, sure that he hadn’t intended it to be the sensual invitation her body had taken it to be. Alex appeared not to notice, his expression solemn as he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly my point. It’s been a long two days. You really ought to get some sleep if you can- there’s no need for clothes.”

An expectant pause followed and Lilith felt compelled to ask, “I take it you meant for me to sleep in here, didn’t you?”

“Where else?”

From his tone, she realized that she had no hope of winning this argument. Or at the very least, she would waste a good portion of the night trying, and she was just too tired to do it. Too tired to battle a man who possessed the stubbornness of a brick wall. She vanished everything with a sigh.

“Where else, indeed?”

Satisfied by her answer, Alex drew back the coverlet for her and watched intently as she got in. Lilith tried not to feel nervous, but she found herself wondering what would happen next. Would he join her, or did he intend to spend the night somewhere else?

* * *

**7/Terreille**

_An Ebon-Black shield. What were you thinking to create an Ebon-Black shield?_

He hadn’t been. When Lilith mentioned leaving, he’d reacted without any conscious thought whatsoever- driven by an overwhelming need to be _sure_ she remained in his suite. No rational reason for it. In fact, Lilith had pointed out every reason why it was better not to stay. But Alex hadn’t been swayed. He wanted her _here_. And even _that_ hadn’t been enough. Alex didn’t completely relax his guard until Lilith got into bed. _His_ bed.

_Mine._

The feeling solidified into that single word and burned in his veins as he watched Lilith curl onto her side and pull the sheet to her shoulders. Alex fought the impulse to draw it back so that his gaze could roam over her body. In truth, he wanted to do a whole lot more than just look. Wanted to touch, taste and listen as he reawakened Lilith’s desire before surrendering to the need to possess her again. Wanted to hear that word- _mine_ \- echoed in his name when she cried out in the final moment of ecstasy.

_Mother Night, what is wrong with me?_

Alex took a step backward, trying to regain some control. Was disturbed at how difficult he found the task, having never craved sex this strongly before. Had never craved it period. Then again, he suspected this feeling was about more than just sex. If he got into the bed now, though, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself. And while Lilith might want- or _need_ \- release from the _safframate_ still lingering in her system, he had to resist.

_Wouldn’t want to hurt her any more than I already have._

His mind superimposed images of blood on sheets, and he stumbled another step backward as all thoughts of passion died. All too aware of the horrifying scene he’d been faced with after Lilith had gone to shower. He’d vanished all of the bedding the second she’d left the room, unable to stomach the sight of it and the psychic remnants of her agony embedded in the fibers. Just how much pain had ridden alongside the pleasure he’d coaxed out of her body? Alex didn’t need to ask; he’d seen the answer for himself in her face. Pale and strained from the minute the ordeal was over. Wanting to leave his suite as soon as possible.

_Still think that I can decide to be better than what Meredith and her coven made me? Or have you changed your mind?_

“Whatever you’re thinking of, you might want to stop,” Lilith said as she groped for the down counterpane with one hand.

Alex hadn’t realized just how far his temper had slipped the leash. The room had a definite chill; he reined himself in enough to make things more comfortable.

“Sorry.”

“I just figured I’d warn you before either of us lost toes to frostbite.”

Humor. An unusual approach. Unlike most witches, who panicked when they realized his temper went cold, Lilith defused it with a joke. Alex couldn’t quite bring himself to laugh, but he managed a wry, “I’m sure you’d have come up with something long before that happened.”

“Witchfire would solve the problem.” She paused. “But it’s a cure that might be worse than the disease, so I’d recommend not having to find out.”

Another joke, but given the wording Alex wondered if she might be referring to more than just witchfire. Was it a subtle means of referring to the _safframate_ and the ‘cure’ that was supposed to help deal with it? He had to ask.

“Lilith?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

That answer was given too quickly to be true. When a witch said she was fine, it meant something was very wrong, but she wasn’t going to tell a man what it was. For the court bitches, it was part of a test. If the unwitting subject didn’t guess what was wrong, the bitches punished him. Lilith, though…she just didn’t want to talk. Alex knew he ought to leave it at that; he pushed back, anyway.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Alex, I’m _fine_.”

Her sharp-edged tone discouraged any further inquiry, and so he gave up. Her Jewels and her mind came through the Virgin Night intact. Alex tried to convince himself that should be enough, circling around to the opposite side of the bed. He got in facing the wall and doused the witchlight, though he didn’t expect sleep to come easily. For either of them.

Lilith drifted off first. Alex heard her breathing change somewhere close to four in the morning and flipped over to stare at her. Thinking. In a few hours the housekeeping staff would be up and about. The coven wouldn’t likely surface until nearly noon, but he couldn’t take the chance that Meredith would sense that he no longer wore the Ring. He wanted Lilith well away from here when the bitch came looking for him.

_She’s expecting me to go with her._

He should. After all, she was offering to reunite him with his family. But Alex considered what she’d just said about how long it would take to get there. Two days. He didn’t know where they were headed, but two days sounded like a lot of ground to cover. Far beyond Draega- and Hayll, for that matter. More than likely, they’d be travelling it alone.

If he spent two more days with Lilith, he knew he’d give into the temptation to take her to bed again. And beyond tonight, he wouldn’t have the excuse that he was only helping her through the _safframate-_ wouldn’t be able to hide the truth. What would Lilith do if she knew he wanted her that badly? Resist, if the past two days were any indication.

_But suppose she_ doesn’t _?_

Of the two outcomes, that scared him more. Alex knew he couldn’t trust himself when it came to witches. He’d already hurt Lilith badly enough when he wasn’t trying to, but _next_ time…next time something might shift inside him like it did with Kareal and Fawne. Or with the hundreds of other witches he’d brutally tortured over the centuries. Alex couldn’t risk it- not with Lilith. Couldn’t risk emerging from that chilling rage to find her mutilated corpse waiting for him.

_Best to get away from her for a while. Clear my mind and cure myself of whatever wants her so badly. Then maybe I can face that journey._


	9. Parting of Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning starts out straightforward enough, with Lilith determined to get the two of them out of Draega on schedule. But then the subject his Ring of Obedience comes up, and Lilith has to explain in more detail the caper she carried out a few days ago.
> 
> Then things go sideways when Alex admits he's not going home with her. Offering her a half-truth about why doesn't go so well- even though she'll let him have his way. And in exchange for leaving him behind, she'll ask Alex for a favor. A necessary one...but complying with her request will come with consequences.
> 
> Paeter and Dahlen aren't have a great morning, either. The former has gathered up most of the pleasure slaves for an early morning meeting to discuss what to do and reassure them about Lilith. Dahlen, though, is late. While wrestling with the memories of what he's suffered, Lilith crosses his path. She'll do her best to assure Dahlen she's fine, but you can bet the Warlord won't be entirely convinced that nothing is wrong.

**1/Terreille**

Lilith awoke early, ripped out of a fitful sleep as a spasm gripped her body. Just as it had done several times since Alex persuaded her to sleep in his room. She clenched her jaw and emptied her mind of all thought while she waited for it to pass. When it did, she released the breath she’d been holding. Not half as strong as the last one and hadn’t lasted more than a minute. Lilith guessed that she might have to endure a handful more of them before the _safframate_ faded completely.

_Thank the Darkness for that._ She slipped out of bed, hoping not to wake Alex. While she’d been willing to placate him on the subject last night, Lilith was in no mood to argue about clothes this morning. _It’s long past the time we should have been gone from here, anyway._

She called in a loose, summer tunic the color of ripe plums and a pair of grey trousers. Took her a minute to locate the black, ankle-high boots that went with them and a matching pair of socks. Probably not the best ensemble for strolling around Draega if Lilith didn’t want to draw attention to herself- at least not in Meredith’s district. But they were the only clothes she thought she could tolerate right now.

_And they’re a damned sight less conspicuous than prancing around Draega in a man’s dress shirt,_ she grumbled as she hitched the trousers up and buttoned them.

All in all, her luck held. Wasn’t until Lilith was pulling the tunic over her head that she heard movement from the direction of the bed- a rustle of bedcovers that told her Alex was awake. Although she _knew_ she ought to wait long enough for him to get dressed, she just couldn’t make herself do it. With a deprecating sigh, she poked her head out just as he’d thrown back the blankets and rose to his feet.

Damn. It really wasn’t fair for a man to look that beautiful. Just seeing him rekindled memories of last night, causing her next inward breath to hitch in the back of her throat. Lilith prayed to the Darkness that Alex would assume she was fighting off the _safframate_. Even if it meant arguing about whether or not she was stable enough to leave the suite. Far better than…

_Admitting that you want him?_

The sly question posed to her held more than a touch of cold rebuke. Lilith’s temper spiked in response and she shot back, _I can’t have him, so what’s it matter?_

 _Who says you can’t? Couldn’t have been Alex, because you haven’t even asked for_ his _opinion, have you?_

_Only because I already know what he’s going to say._

_You_ know _\- or you_ assume _?_

Unwilling to answer, Lilith concentrated on a much simpler task. She pulled at the laces of her boots and threaded them through the eyelets with dogged persistence. Had only finished the first one when Alex greeted her with a neutral, “You’re up early.”

“It’s time to leave,” she replied while keeping her gaze averted. In the pause that followed, Lilith heard a drawer open and silently thanked Mother Night that he had taken the hint to get dressed himself. She continued with her point as she started on her other boot. “Meredith won’t come back for another day, but no sense wasting a decent head start before she and Valinna realize you’re gone.”

Alex made no comment at first. His footsteps carried him over to the wardrobe in the corner. Lilith didn’t dare look up, but her mind was all too happy to provide her with images to accompany the tantalizing sound of a zipper. Preoccupied as she was, she almost didn’t catch his answer.

“It’s a moot point, really. As soon as Meredith wakes up, she will notice I’m not wearing a Ring anymore.”

Apparently, she hadn’t made it clear last night _which_ rings she’d stolen. Gambling that it was safe enough to look at him, Lilith got to her feet and cast a glance in his direction. She was wrong. Granted, Alex had at least put on a pair of pants and was in the process of buttoning an emerald dress shirt. The clothes only served to emphasize his fine build rather than conceal it. She gave herself a mental shake and cleared her throat.

“No, she won’t. I stole the primary and secondary controlling rings when they were drugging me.”

Alex’s fingers stilled on the last button as he stared at her. Lilith struggled to find the right adjective to describe his expression. Shock, definitely that- but something more, too. Although why he found her admission surprising remained a mystery. How did he expect her to get him out of Draega if she didn’t sever Meredith’s ability to monitor him through his Ring?

He attempted to speak twice before he managed to choke out an uneven, “You had them the whole time.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You could have used them any time over the past few days to have gotten your way.” Too startled at the unexpected direction the conversation had taken, she couldn’t form a response before he queried, “You never once thought to use them, did you?”

Bile rose to the back of her throat at the thought of ever using something so hideously cruel. Mother Night, it had been hard enough for her just to _touch_ them. The moment she had, the gold bands had pulsated with Meredith and Valinna’s malicious glee. And beneath theirs, she’d felt traces of Dorothea and Hekatah, too. These rings had a long, tainted history in the Blood. Millennia of witches channeling their malevolence and hate into them. It had tried to hook into her the moment she held them- tried to goad her into using them.

“I could never use one of those... _things_ -” she spat out vehemently- “to inflict pain on someone.” Appalled at the mere suggestion she would, Lilith shook her head at him. “I _never_ intended to use them.”

Alex regarded her in considering silence before asking, “Well, then, what _were_ you planning to do with them?”

While she knew the answer to his question, the timing of it was somewhat awkward. If would have been better to deal with all of the rings at once. The controlling rings were all in her possession, but Lilith hadn’t yet collected the corresponding Rings worn by the other pleasure slaves. Even though they didn’t work, she couldn’t risk removing them until after she’d freed Alex. Couldn’t risk that one of Meredith’s coven bitches would notice. Not only would it alert the witches to her plan, it would also result in the untimely- and no doubt excruciatingly brutal- death of whomever got caught not wearing one.

_Will just have to deal with the rest of them separately. For now…_

Lilith called in a large silver bowl and used Craft to float it waist-high in front of her. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she floated his Ring from atop the bureau over to her and placed it in the bowl. Then she called in the rest. Gold bands of all sizes filled the bowl to the brim- most of them controlling rings. Enough to enslave several dozen Blood males.

Ignoring Alex’s whispered prayer to the Darkness, Lilith unleashed a blast of deadly witchfire. It ignited in a flash of white-blue flames, over which she placed an Ebon-gray shield. The witchfire burned hot and fast, causing the bowl and its contents to glow. And when it finally burned itself out, every ring had been reduced to flaky metallic ashes. Lilith raised her eyes to his.

“ _That’s_ what I planned to do.”

* * *

**2/Terreille**

Alex broke eye contact to stare at the bowl. Rather, to stare at what remained of the rings that had been torturing Blood males for millennia. When Lilith had called them in, he’d been staggered by the enmity radiating from those rings. It had tried to slip past his inner barriers. Tried, but Alex had closed them tight the moment he felt the first intrusion, and had even taken a physical step backward to distance himself from them. Lilith, by contrast, hadn’t been affected. Or at least didn’t _appear_ to be.

_She actually destroyed them._

_What did you expect her to do? You heard the tone in her voice when you suggested that she could have used them._

Oh yes, he’d heard it. A blend of horrified disgust and fury that still hung in the air around them. No mistake that she felt almost the same animosity towards those rings as he did. And yet Alex still found it difficult to understand why she’d willingly destroyed the one tool witches had to subdue Blood males. Even if she never used one herself- or let anyone else use them- she could have kept those rings and reserved them as a threat to hang over the head of any male who resisted the authority of the witches who ruled.

_So why didn’t she?_

“Those were the last,” he heard her murmur, as if she were talking to herself.

“The last what?”

“The last remaining controlling rings in all of Hayll- in all of Terreille, actually. It’s taken me decades to locate them all. But those were the very last.”

“Maybe for now, but Meredith or any of her coven bitches could just create new ones.”

“Not anymore.”

Now he forced his gaze up to hers again, noting the unnerving intensity that burned like tongues of witchfire in her eyes. Alex waited for a moment or two to pass before he realized she wasn’t going to explain her enigmatic comment without being prompted. He took a breath and asked, “How are you sure of that?”

“No one has forged a Ring of Obedience since Dorothea ruled Hayll. It’s what one might call a lost art now. Meredith and Valinna inadvertently helped keep it that way, closely guarding the Craft knowledge needed to do it so that no one could seize control from them.” Lilith paused, her lips curving into a subtle and terrifying smile. “But I found where they’d hidden the texts. Rest assured, Alex, that Craft knowledge will _remain_ lost.”

_Mother Night._

He wasn’t sure whether he ought to be grateful or frightened. No Blood male would ever endure the agony of wearing a Ring of Obedience again. Without them, Meredith and her bitches were going to find it much more difficult to maintain absolute control of Hayll. That was something to celebrate. But that smile…

_Mother Night._

“Why?” The question left him before Alex realized he’d said anything. Some of the feral intensity left Lilith’s eyes and her brow wrinkled in mild confusion. He tried to phrase what he’d meant in a way that she could understand. “Why did you take such a dangerous risk on our behalf?”

“Because Hayll is not meant to be this way,” she admitted with a reluctant sigh that turned into a snarl when she added, “And those damned rings are part of why this territory wasn’t healing the way it should.” Alex wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but Lilith pressed on. “It’s not important now. We need to get out of here.”

A long minute passed where he debated with himself how he was going to answer. How to tell her that he wouldn’t be going with her without sounding ungrateful for what she’d gone through on his behalf. How to not sound like a heartless bastard who didn’t care about seeing his family. He _did_ care and he _was_ grateful- more than he could ever express. And yet he couldn’t possibly go with her.

_But how do I say it without telling her_ why _?_

As it turned out, his silence had already given her his answer. Alex saw the moment it registered as something akin to regret flashed in her eyes. Lilith took a step backwards. “I see. So you’ll be remaining in Hayll, then.”

“I need…time.” The end of that sentence landed awkwardly between them, even though it was somewhat true. He groped for some kind of response that would reassure her this wasn’t her fault. “Time to think about what I want to do with my life- if going to live with my family is the right choice.”

Lilith didn’t look as though she believed him. But she didn’t push back- didn’t argue to know his true reasons as he’d expected her to. She just agreed with him, voice quiet and resigned as she said, “All right. You should do what is best.”

“Lilith…”

“But,” she continued with slightly narrowed eyes. “If you’re staying in Hayll to kill Meredith and her coven, I should warn you that you can’t do that.”

While he hadn’t quite thought through his plans to that point yet, he wasn’t surprised that Lilith had. Her order didn’t sit well, and he fired back, “The hell I can’t! The bitches deserve a well-earned trip to the Darkness, and I’m more than capable of giving it to them. Besides, you can’t expect Hayll to recover if Meredith continues to rule.”

“Killing them won’t fix what’s wrong with Hayll. It’ll only make things _worse_.” Lilith shook her head sadly. “Don’t you think I would have done it myself by now if that weren’t the case?”

She had a point. Wearing the Ebon-gray, she could have easily taken out Valinna on her own. Even Meredith, under the right circumstances. So Alex bit back the snarl of protest he wanted to make and forced himself to consider how she knew that sparing the bitches was the right path. Only one answer came to him: tangled web. He made a point of looking at her right ring finger before raising an eyebrow at her in question.

“I came to Hayll and saw what Meredith had done to it. Was just as eager to send her to Hell as you are…but instinct cautioned me against it. So I wove a tangled web to understand why. What I saw in it is the reason why I’ve let the bitch live.”

Alex didn’t ask what she’d seen. There were some things one Black Widow didn’t ask another. But once he was free of this place, he fully intended to weave a web of his own- to have the question answered for himself. He made no mention of his plan to Lilith. If she hadn’t sensed that he was a Black Widow, he wasn’t about to reveal that to her. Instead, he raked a hand through his hair and let out a rumbling sigh.

“Fine, the bitches will live- _for now_.”

“I’m glad that we can come to an agreement on that,” she mused wryly. After a moment’s pause, she ventured to ask, “Would you consider doing me a favor?”

“What sort of favor?”

“I need you to use whatever means necessary to convince Meredith that I’m dead.”

At first, Alex didn’t think he’d heard her correctly, but as the seconds ripened into minutes, he realized she was serious. After a few more had passed, he reluctantly admitted that her plan made sense. It would be safer for her if Meredith thought she was dead. Didn’t make it any easier to accept. He swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice even when he said, “To do that, I’d need-”

“A Shadow. I know. And I’ve already got one that you can use. I’d made one to keep an eye on things here when I went home to talk to your sister.”

_Actually, I’d been about to say ‘a corpse’._

“A Shadow won’t work if anyone tries to touch it. They’ll know it’s not real.”

“Not _this_ one.”

Alex studied her warily, not quite willing to ask her what she meant by _that_. Not that he doubted her. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to know how she’d learned to weave a Shadow with enough substance that it could be touched. Or why, for that matter.

“It’s okay if you’d rather not,” she told him. “I can do it myself once you’ve left.”

The thought of her imitating anything he might do to a witch made him physically ill. Even if it was just a Shadow. He shook his head. “Absolutely not. If it needs to be done, _I’ll_ do it.” _And may the Darkness have mercy on me._ “Can you call it in- the Shadow, that is?”

“Of course.”

Lilith called in a large, flat case containing a tangled web. He busied himself in studying it until she jabbed her thumbnail into her index finger. The scent of blood drew his attention, and he suppressed a snarl as Lilith let three drops fall onto the center of the web. She sealed the wound with healing Craft, vanished the case and turned around. Alex turned as well, and wasn’t quite prepared for what he saw.

“Well, that’s it, I think. Probably best if I leave you to…whatever.” By the time he’d dragged his eyes away from the Shadow, Lilith had already taken several steps towards the bedroom door. She hesitated for a moment. “I’ll be in and out of the city. If you change your mind, send a message on an Ebon-gray thread and I’ll get it.”

_Say something before she leaves. Before it’s too late._

“Lilith. I should explain-”

It was already too late. He saw it in her expression as she retreated into the hallway- knew it even before she said, “I’ll see you around, Prince.” An indifferent shrug. “Or maybe I won’t.”

* * *

**3/Terreille**

He’d known worse nights, but Paeter was still grateful that this one was finally over. Kaeremi had insisted that he make up for the lost evening, and so he’d only just left her suite about an hour ago. Maybe less. But for all her demands at least she hadn’t added a punishment for being late on top of it. No doubt thanks to whatever excuse Dahlen had given Idrina.

_I hope you survived the night with that bitch, my friend. Especially now that we’re so close to the end._

Or at least he _hoped_ so. The past two days hadn’t gone exactly as Raenel had planned, and that had made everyone rather nervous. Paeter and Dahlen had been the only two summoned last night, but it wouldn’t be long before others would receive similar summons. Which was why they’d all gathered in one of the seldom-used parlors in the servants’ wing. Risking the coven’s wrath to discuss what they should do.

Nine men paced the room with restless energy, eyes darting nervously to the door. Ten if Paeter included himself. Only two missing- Cassel and Dahlen. The former came as no surprise. Despite the healing Raenel had done for him, the man was in no condition to leave his room; he was lucky to be alive at all after what Seren and Geara had done to him for attacking Zirah. But Dahlen should have been here by now.

_Can’t afford to keep waiting for him,_ he admitted reluctantly. In a semi-hushed voice, he drew the attention of the group, “I think we’d better make this as brief as possible. The coven bitches aren’t known to be early risers, but now’s not the time to get careless.”

Several heads nodded in agreement. Most of the Warlords looked to Paeter as their leader. He’d been serving in Meredith’s hall the longest, and had made a point of helping new arrivals adjust to their duties. For the ones who listened, his advice gave them a better chance at survival. Not a guarantee by any stretch; sometimes, a man drew the short straw and couldn’t have done anything to avoid it. And there were always those few who’d rather pay the ultimate price rather than submit. Dahlen had very nearly taken that path.

“Have you heard from Raenel, Paeter?”

The question came as no surprise- or that it had been the first thing anyone wanted to know. After she’d healed Cassel, Raenel had left to complete the final phase of her plan. She’d told Paeter that once she had finished, she would contact him with instructions about where they would all meet to turn over their Rings. Said it wouldn’t take more than a few days- three at the most.

“Not yet, Vaughn,” he said, shaking his head.

Murmurs drifted through the room, but no one wanted to ask the next question. At last, a voice called out from the back of the room, “Is it true- the rumors we’ve been hearing about what went on in the Queen bitch’s private salon?”

“I’m afraid so.”

The murmurs grew louder. More agitated. Paeter couldn’t blame them for being discouraged. Every man in this room knew what _safframate_ could do. Knew that to be given two spoonfuls was a death sentence. Even if the _body_ survived, a person dosed with that much would most likely emerge from that excruciating nightmare with a mind so shattered that death would have been kinder.

Most likely, but not _always_. And that was the hope Paeter clung to- that Raenel was strong enough to recover from the ordeal. He would hold onto that hope with everything in him until the question was answered one way or another.

“So what now,” Vaughn pressed. “Do we continue to wait, knowing that she’s in no condition to help anyone at this point?”

“We don’t know that for certain.”

“Don’t we?” another man cut in bitterly. “Paeter, we have to face reality. Raenel did her best, but once Meredith caught her, the game was over. We should have escaped the hall that night.”

He turned to the Yellow-Jeweled Warlord and put a thread of steel in his tone as he reminded him, “She asked for three days and we all promised to give them to her, Jaeren. _You_ may want to give up and break that promise, but _I_ saw what Raenel was capable of doing. Things no other witch in Hayll has _ever_ done. So I have to believe when she said she could do this that she will see it done.”

Jaeren backed down, guilt heating his cheeks. Vaughn, on the other hand, followed up with a question that threatened to wither the fledgling optimism that he’d tried to give them. “And what about DeSade?” Silence fell over the room. “We all heard Othar and Larkin. Grael was supposed to break Raenel for those bitches, but DeSade got to him first. And Meredith let DeSade have her.” After another pause, he continued, “Say what you want about the _safframate_ , but no witch ever survives _him_.”

The coven bitches wouldn’t, no. The ones foolish enough to engage the Prince’s services paid a brutal price for that folly; tales of his most recent victim still gave the rest of them shivers. Even if they agreed the bitch deserved what she got. But Raenel wasn’t one of _them_. And she had one card up her sleeve that might tilt the odds in her favor.

“There’s a chance she might. If you recall, we promised to stay so she could free the Prince like she’d done for the rest of us.”

_Although I can’t say that freeing DeSade doesn’t come with its own set of risks._ Paeter understood _why_ she wanted to do it, but the Prince commanded the Ebon-gray…and harbored a deep hatred of witches. Would he _really_ show her any mercy just because she was the one to sever Meredith’s hold on him? _She_ said _he would. Said that she had dealt with men like DeSade before and understood them._

Men like DeSade. Hell’s fire, he didn’t want to delve too deeply into what _that_ meant. Didn’t want to think of the name that came immediately to mind when describing the kind of man DeSade was. The name Meredith and her coven bitches had whispered uneasily amongst themselves for centuries; the name pleasure slaves both hated and admired.

The Sadist.

Blood males were forbidden from uttering that name aloud. Disobedience- no matter how slight or unintentional- was met with swift punishment: Public castration and the loss of one’s Jewels. Meredith and her pet Queens claimed it was a precaution to curb ‘unhealthy romanticism of a dangerous murderer’, but Paeter knew better. He and others like him understood that fear drove them to such extremes. 

Witches of Hayll feared the Sadist, even though he hadn’t walked the streets of Draega in almost a millennia. Quite possibly before most of the coven bitches were even born. Which begged the question of whether or not he had ever existed in the first place. Some speculated that he was merely the Queen’s own invention- a means of justifying why the rest of them deserved to be brutalized and controlled. No one knew for sure.

But one thing they _did_ know- the last six hundred years had given rise to a Warlord Prince to rival the legend. Not even Meredith could deny that she’d created the very monster she’d feared. So how Raenel thought she could control DeSade once he no longer wore a Ring of Obedience…

“Do you think he let her explain that,” Vaughn argued. “Do you think she’d even have the presence of mind to _tell_ him once the _safframate_ got a hold of her?”

“I know how bad this looks, but-”

*Paeter?*

Dahlen’s thought sent over a private thread cut him off mid-sentence. While holding up a hand to let the others know he hadn’t finished, he sent an immediate reply. *Dahlen- where are you?*

*On my way*

*Everything…all right?*

A very long pause followed. Paeter probably shouldn’t have asked, but hadn’t been able to stifle his concern for the younger man. Idrina may not be as cruel as Meredith, but the bitch had a vindictive streak that set her apart from most of the coven. Before Dahlen, she’d already destroyed a half-dozen warlords. Wearing them down until they became too unstable for bedroom work and were killed for blood sport.

*I’ll live*

He left it at that. *Glad to hear it. We’re in the blue room*

*Be there in five minutes* Paeter was about to sever the connection and relay the update to the others when another message came through. *Better make that ten minutes- maybe fifteen*

*Why?* he asked, suddenly alarmed.

*Raenel*

*Is she with you?* _Please say you’ve seen her and that she’s all right._ *Dahlen?*

*Yes, she’s here*

*She’s well?*

Another pause. A more ominous one than before.

*I’m going to need some time to deal with this. Will let you know when we’re on our way*

The link between them broke, leaving him feeling slightly uneasy about what the other man meant. But he could at least find some comfort in knowing that the witch was alive. How she’d escaped DeSade- and what happened in the days between- remained a worrisome mystery, but she was alive. That gave him some hope that not all was lost.

“What was that about,” Jaeren asked.

“Dahlen’s on his way. And he says he’s bringing Raenel with him.”

* * *

**4/Terreille**

Dahlen closed the door behind him and pressed his hands against his eyes and temples, willing the memories of last night into the deepest, darkest corner of his mind. Willing himself to forget what had been done to him- and what he’d been forced to do- before something in him broke. He didn’t know how long he stood there, shaking with the effort of holding himself together, but he knew he couldn’t afford to remain here much longer.

_Paeter and the others will be waiting for me._

Thoroughly exhausted, he shuffled down the corridor. Thankfully, none of the coven bitches emerged from their suites as he passed by. Far too early. None of them ever surfaced before the midday meal, if then. No doubt Idrina would call to the kitchen to have Arren bring hers up in another hour or so. The witch had already been summoned to her suite once this morning, tasked with a handful of mundane errands that could have waited for a more convenient hour.

_Not to mention a less humiliating one._

Humiliating for _him_ , anyway; Idrina _relished_ having an audience. She timed Arren’s arrival to coincide with an order for him to kneel in service- one of several times she’d made that particular demand since last night- and left the witch standing just inside the room, waiting to be given a task until Dahlen had performed his own to Idrina’s complete satisfaction. Didn’t even spare Arren a glance as she bade her to gather up soiled clothes for laundering and tidy up the bedroom. All the while, she’d made a point of running her hands over his body with blatant possession.

_It could have been worse,_ he realized, and sucked in a painful breath. _It could have been Kareal._

Mother Night, he couldn’t have faced her if _she’d_ been the one to witness…Dahlen thrust _that_ memory back, unwilling to think of what Idrina had demanded of him next. It was over. After today, he’d never have to endure that bitch’s touch ever again. Kareal wouldn’t _ever_ have to know about the price he’d paid for that chance at freedom.

_Wouldn’t she_ , a traitorous voice whispered in his ear. _Arren saw enough this morning to give a graphic account of what Idrina expects as ‘entertainment’. You think they don’t talk to one another? By now, the stories have likely circulated to every witch serving in the hall._

His steps faltered as the truth of those words sunk in. He’d passed through the kitchen on several occasions and overheard the witches trading stories about the coven bitches. Usually about their selfish and petty demands about meals or menial tasks expected of their personal servants. But even though he’d never _heard_ them mention anything involving the pleasure slaves, that didn’t mean those stories weren’t told.

_Can’t change it, so just move on._ Dahlen picked up his stride again, only to skid to a halt a half second later. He’d forgotten to let Paeter know he was on his way. And since Idrina had kept him longer than usual… _Paeter’s probably worried she’s figured out something is up._

He aimed a private thread at his friend, who responded right away. As expected, he _had_ been worried. Not about their plans for escape, but for _him_. Concern passed over their connection when the older Warlord asked how he was; Dahlen hesitated for several seconds before answering, not wanting to burden Paeter with his problems. They were just about finished when Dahlen was nearly knocked off his feet by a witch who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Knowing the sort of witch who’d be wandering around _this_ part of the hall, his eyes narrowed with predatory interest. Especially since he wasn’t detecting any Jewels on the bitch. Could be that one of them had gotten careless- thought the Blood males were too cowed to fight back. Well, he could teach _this_ one a lesson. Dahlen descended to the depth of his Purple Dusk, intending to strike before she could react or call out in alarm to the rest of the coven. And then the witch turned around.

“Raenel!” he exclaimed in genuine surprise as his temper drained out of him. “Raenel, what are you doing here?”

She didn’t answer, and stumbled backwards in a wild-shy attempt to put distance between them. Didn’t really look at him, her gold eyes sweeping the hallway in all directions. As if she expected someone else to appear at any moment. Dahlen cursed himself a fool when it dawned on him who that might be. DeSade. The _safframate_. He’d been so focused on surviving his own private hell last night that he’d almost forgotten what Raenel had gone through.

_This might take a bit longer than five minutes._ He told Paeter of the possible delay before trying again.

“Raenel, it’s me- Dahlen.”

Still no recognition, or even an acknowledgement that he was there. Coupled with his inability to sense her Sapphire Jewels at all, he feared the worst. Two spoonfuls of _safframate_ and then DeSade…perhaps it _had_ been too much to survive. Even for a witch as strong as Raenel. He didn’t want Kareal to be right about what would happen. Granted, his darling Spitfire had predicted DeSade would kill the witch.

_But broken and mad isn’t too far off, is it?_

“I have to get away from here,” she whispered in a haunted voice. “Have to get away before-”

She was about to bolt. In her current condition, he doubted she could find her way out of the hall before Meredith or one of the coven bitches found her. He had to do _something_. Unfortunately, the one thing he _could_ do might make things worse. But seeing no alternative, he set his hands on her shoulders and held her in place.

“We’ll get you away- wherever you want to go.” Although Raenel didn’t respond, she was focused on him now. Calmer. Dahlen tried to keep his tone soothing as he offered her a reassuring, “Trust me, it’ll be easier once the _safframate_ has worn off.”

She’d likely already seen the worst of the drug by now. One spoonful would keep a man on that frantic edge of pleasure and pain for close to a day, so he could guess doubling the dose would last twice as long. Then again, Dahlen didn’t know if _safframate_ might work differently for witches; he’d never seen one dosed before and had no way of knowing for sure. But if she _was_ still riding the crest of it…

Despite knowing she likely wouldn’t accept, he offered, “If there’s anything any of us can do in the meantime to help-”

_“NO!!”_ Raenel jerked out of his grasp with a horrified cry. “Not after- I won’t. Not ever again.”

The pain in her voice ripped at him. Told him enough about what had happened with DeSade. The bastard had to have _known_ she wasn’t like Meredith or those other coven bitches. And instead of taking care of Raenel like he _should_ have, he’d tortured her. Dahlen’s temper threatened to snap the leash thinking how DeSade had likely _enjoyed_ every minute of it.

_You should have left him shackled to that bitch, Raenel. Shouldn’t have risked yourself for a lost cause like DeSade._

But she had, and look where it got her. She’d been their _best_ chance at fighting what Meredith had done to Hayll. Hell, she’d worn _Sapphire_ , and now…his fists clenched just thinking what she’d lost. What that bastard had taken away.

“Dahlen.”

Raenel’s voice pulled him away from his thoughts. Enough to realize the hallway had chilled noticeably. He made an effort to rein in his temper and met her gaze with no small amount of reluctance. The panic had left her expression, replaced by an emotion he couldn’t quite decipher. Rather, that too many had gotten tangled up to separate any one in particular.

“Lady?” he queried.

“Leave it go, Dahlen.” His skepticism must have been obvious, because she continued in a much firmer voice, “I know what you think DeSade has done, but I assure you that I am unharmed.”

“But your Jewels. He _broke_ them.”

Raenel exhaled and shook her head at him. For the briefest of moments, she called in a pendant- the same one he’d seen when she was healing Cassel’s injuries. And then she vanished it again.

“ _Masked_ , not broken. I keep them masked most of the time so witches like Meredith and Valinna don’t take notice of me.”

“But he still-”

“ _Warlord_.”

The command in that tone silenced his protest, although Dahlen swallowed it with difficulty. She hadn’t been broken- her mind or her Jewels- which helped diffuse some of his anger. And yet he still wasn’t entirely convinced that nothing happened. _Something_ had set Raenel running from DeSade, or she would still be with him. Unlikely that she would allow him to push the subject. Dahlen pushed, anyway.

“You’re _sure_ you’re okay?”

Raenel regarded him for a long moment before coming to some kind of decision about what to say. “If I admit that the past few days have been physically and mentally exhausting, and that I haven’t quite shaken off the _safframate_ , will you drop the issue about the Prince?”

“Maybe.”

“Might as well have been born a Warlord Prince,” she muttered under her breath. “He’s got the temperament of one.”

“When you say it like that, I’m not sure whether to take it as an insult or a compliment,” he mused.

“It’s open for interpretation. Where are Paeter and the others?”

A deliberate shift in topic. Dahlen debated for several minutes whether he’d accept the diversion, or if he wanted to pursue what happened with DeSade. In the end, it came down to timing. None of them could afford the time it would take to wear her down enough to get an honest answer. Not if they were going to escape the hall before the coven bitches began to surface. And Raenel knew it.

“The blue room in the servants’ wing. I told him I was on my way.”

She smiled.

“Well, then, it’s probably best to get going. I think it’s long past time I finish what I came here to do, don’t you?”

* * *

**5/Terreille**

“Lilith, wait!”

He crossed the room and burst into the hallway, despite having no cause to hurry. Not with an Ebon-Black shield around the suite. Lilith wasn’t going anywhere until he dropped it. And yet a feeling of dread crept over him as he traversed the short corridor to the main sitting area. Dread that ripened into panic when he reached that sparely decorated room.

Lilith was gone. Utterly and completely gone.

_Impossible. She_ couldn’t _have passed through an Ebon-Black shield._ Alex performed a slow turn to examine every corner of the room. _Could she?_

A thorough probe of his suite returned no trace of her. He widened the psychic tendril beyond his suite, reaching as far as he dared without alerting Meredith or the rest of the coven. Still nothing. As if Lilith had vanished without so much as a trace.

“I wanted to put some distance between us,” he murmured. “Looks as though I’ve gotten my wish.”

_So why doesn’t that make me happy?_

_You know why._

Alex wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t so much the _physical_ distance she’d put between them that he found upsetting. It was the invisible wall she’d put between them in those last moments before she’d disappeared. The distance created by her tone. Impersonal- formal- as if they hadn’t met before. As if she’d never called his name in the throes of passion. As if it never happened.

_Can I blame her for wanting to forget?_

_Call her back,_ the voice in his head insisted. _You can fix this if you call her back._

 _And tell her_ what _?_

_You made a mistake._

A mistake. Alex agreed that he’d most certainly made one. He just wasn’t sure where to draw the line. When he’d skirted the real reason why he was staying in Hayll instead of going with her? Perhaps when he didn’t agree with her plan of leaving last night? Or maybe- just maybe- when he refused to heed her reservations and coerced her into his bed in the first place. Although ‘mistake’ was too innocent a word to describe what he’d done wrong there; Alex couldn’t bring himself to consider the damning- and yet more appropriate- words he should have used instead.

_I can’t._

He wasn’t even certain that Lilith would answer if he did. She could easily wash her hands of him and leave Alex to find his own way back to his family. Free of Meredith’s control, he could leave Draega- Hayll itself- and discover for himself why she’d been so adamant to keep such a tight rein on him. Maybe travel to Dhemlan. Or as far as Askavi. He’d heard whispers of the Black Mountain and the Keep that stood watch over it.

A shuffle-step behind him forced Alex to turn around.

The Shadow.

It didn’t say a word, just staring at him with an undecipherable expression- a perfect imitation of Lilith’s. He had seen a fair number of Shadows- had even created a few of his own- but none of them captured the likeness of a living person as well as this one did. Mother Night, how was he going to bring himself to torture it, even if it was only a Shadow? Lilith had no idea what she’d just asked him to do.

“You don’t appear to be all that keen to get started,” the Shadow observed with a slight head tilt. “Why not?”

Why not? Alex could list several reasons. Hearing it speak had only added yet another; even the Shadow’s _voice_ sounded just like Lilith’s. Could it feel pain? Would it scream? May the Darkness be merciful, he wasn’t sure he could do this.

“It’s complicated,” he managed to say. “With the eyes, and the voice…I-”

She- _it_ , he reminded himself- sighed. “How much damage were you planning to do?”

“Why?”

“Because I could make a few _adjustments_ to my form that might make this easier for you.”

“I didn’t think Shadows could do Craft.”

“Not usually, but it’s one of the spells she set into the web.” Alex didn’t take much comfort in that thought, wondering what _other_ spells Lilith might have set into the tangled web. The Shadow didn’t give him time to voice any concerns. “Of course, once I change, there’s no changing back.”

That was no good. Meredith had to be certain that the witch she found in his suite was the one she’d left here. So as tempting as the offer was, Alex had to decline it with a reluctant shake of his head. “I’m afraid that won’t do. But…thanks, anyway.”

The Shadow nodded and gestured to the corridor behind it, “Shall we, then?”

He took a steadying breath and forced his feet to move. They carried him all the way back to his bedroom, where he stopped. The Shadow came up on his right side, but did not cross the threshold. Waiting patiently as Alex decided the best way to play out this deception. Should have been easy, but for the longest time, he just stared blankly into the room.

_You need me,_ whispered a cold, savagely gentle voice. _You need what I am if you’re going to do this._

Alex knew who the voice belonged to- knew what he was about to unleash. Between one heartbeat and the next, something inside him shifted. And just like that, the cold rage flowed through him. Cut through the uncertainty and hesitation as a plan took shape. He slanted a cruelly amused look to the Shadow.

“I believe the first step is to set the stage.”

The coverlet and sheets vanished. In their place, Alex called in the ones from last night. The counterpane slid over the far side of the bed as if thrust out of the way; the sheets completed the picture, twisted and tangled to indicate a struggle. He stood back to admire his work, noting how Lilith’s blood had soaked into the fibers in erratic splotches dyed a deep shade of carmine.

Extending a long-fingered hand, he bade her, “Over here, my scheming little darling, and take what you’ve got coming to you.”

She hesitated a second or two, which only served to hone his temper. Alex strode back to the door and seized her bicep in a punishing grip, immensely satisfied to feel flesh yielding beneath his fingers. Half-dragging the bitch towards the bed, he flung her the rest of the way. She stared up at him, gold eyes wide. He leaned in close- close enough to sense the fine tremors running through her body. The unmistakable tang of fear assailed his senses, mingling with the psychic remnants of pain embedded in the sheets beneath her.

“Was it worth it,” he purred as his fingertips stroked and petted. “Was it worth dying for?” His eyes slit partially closed as a murderously gentle smile formed on his lips. “Was it worth pain so excruciating that you’ll _wish_ you were dead?”

Frightened silence.

“Well, then. I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

He took his time. Wrung every last drop of fear and agony that he could from the bitch. Played every game he’d been too cautious to play before. Until at last, the cold rage had been purged out of him. Alex blinked once or twice, as if waking from a mental fog. Memories surfaced as fragments: Disagreement, tension and dread; Lilith’s hasty retreat; him chasing after her…and then nothing.

His gaze dropped to his hands. For the longest time, Alex just kept staring as blood trickled over the edge of his palm and dripped to the pale cream carpet below. Willed it to be an illusion, even though he knew it wasn’t. Slowly, he forced his line of sight up to the bed in front of him. Finally landing on the brutally slain corpse strewn across it- in particular to the familiar gold eyes staring sightless at the ceiling above.

_Mother Night, what have I done?_ Horror propelled him backwards until he slammed into the blackwood bureau, his whole body violently shaking as he struggled in vain not to become hysterical. _What have I done?_


	10. Plans Fall Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First up, Meredith and Valinna. Ettia breaks the bad news to them that the warlords have all vanished. The Queen's primary concern is finding out whether that includes Alex. She'll visit his suite to find out, where Bethaeny is sent in to discover what Alex has done to Lilith's Shadow.  
> Valinna will have to run damage control, which will involve hiding from the coven that Alex has disappeared. Bethaeny is at the epicenter of the Black Widow's deceptions, and she knows it. But she's not sure she wants to know what really happened in DeSade's suite, either.
> 
> Lilith is having a trying morning. Dahlen, Paeter and the other warlords aren't making a rescue easy, and she has her hands full battling their concern about her well-being. Not to mention their uneasiness about where she intends to take them. For some, it's too much to ask, but a select few are willing to take the risk. For Paeter in particular, he'll find his life going in a direction he never could have predicted.

**1/Terreille**

“What do you mean ‘they’re gone’,” Meredith demanded angrily. “They can’t possibly be _gone_.”

The witch standing in front of her flinched and replied in a meek voice, “I’m afraid they are. After speaking with the rest of the coven, they said the blood males haven’t been seen since mid-morning. They’ve simply vanished.”

“ _All_ of them?”

“All of the pleasure slaves. Their rooms are empty of any personal possessions. We were able to locate Larkin and Othar, however.”

Not a total loss, but not much of a win all the same. Without the pleasure slaves to keep in line, Meredith didn’t have much to keep those two occupied. She certainly had no intentions of using them to serve in the bed.

“And what of the controlling rings,” Valinna pressed. “What does the coven say regarding them?”

“Useless.”

“Define ‘useless’.”

“They might as well be wearing plain gold rings,” Ettia admitted reluctantly. “And if they did work, it wouldn’t matter- not even for Larkin and Othar.”

“Why?”

“Because they aren’t wearing their Rings of Obedience. Said they woke up this morning to find theirs were missing.”

Words that only increased her fury. Witches only removed a Ring after it was no longer needed. Namely, because the male wearing it was dead. As for blood males…decades of _conditioning_ had convinced them that they _couldn’t_ remove a Ring- not one worn by another male or his own.

_And yet those two managed to slip free of theirs._

Beside her, Valinna huffed out a derisive breath, clearly unimpressed by the flimsy excuse. Meredith added one of her own and scoffed haughtily, “A very convenient story. We’ll see to them later.” She arched a brow. “I expect they have been effectively contained.”

Fortunately for Ettia, she answered that question correctly. Which brought them back to the more pressing matter of the missing pleasure slaves. Scouring Draega for them would take resources and time. If it were about the quality of goods lost…well, Meredith could easily round up a dozen more of equal value before the day ended for a fraction of the effort. Looked at _that_ way, recapturing the runaways wasn’t worth it. But this wasn’t about _value_ , it was about teaching those miscreants a lesson. Teaching _every_ blood male in Hayll what would happen to anyone foolish enough to think of escaping her control.

“What do you have to report where the Prince is concerned?”

An unwelcome question, but one that she knew had to be asked. That Valinna had brought it up herself, though, instead of letting Meredith handle it, scratched at her temper. She threw a hard glare at the woman to let her know she had spoken out of turn; the bitch ignored her completely.

“No sign of him outside his suite. No sign he’s left the bedroom, even. Just…” Ettia couldn’t completely hide a shudder. “Silence.”

_Just because the halls aren’t echoing with screams doesn’t mean he isn’t well-occupied with that bitch._

_Doesn’t mean that he is._

*You told the Prince a few days, but in light of the current circumstances, I strongly recommend that you cut that short*

As much as she hated to agree, the Black Widow was right. Too much uncertainty this morning to leave anything to chance. Especially when it came to DeSade. Meredith had to put eyes on him- and that thieving witch- to be sure that she would have answers to what happened with the damned Rings. And to settle the uneasy misgivings that she’d been having about her decision to give him such a loose rein. But she couldn’t let Valinna know that her confidence wasn’t as strong as it had been a few days ago.

*Well, then we’d best summon Ettia’s dimwit cousin to his suite*

*Why?*

*Consolation for taking away his current amusement before he was properly finished, of course*

After a slight pause, the Black Widow replied, *We agreed that Bethaeny is more valuable to us alive at this point*

_We ‘agreed’ on nothing. You_ badgered _me all day yesterday until I relented just to shut you up. But nothing ever says the Queen can’t change her mind._

“Well, I’ve decided he’s had long enough. Send word to Lady Bethaeny that I require her presence outside the Prince’s suite.” Valinna’s lips thinned as she pressed them together in barely contained rage. But now with the words said, she couldn’t countermand Meredith having her way. She rose from her seat. “The three of us will meet her there.”

Bringing Ettia wasn’t necessary when it came to dealing with DeSade. She was merely insurance to hold the Black Widow silent on the subject of Bethaeny. And silent they were. None of them spoke a word on their journey to the corridor outside his suite, where an ominous stillness awaited them. Ettia’s cousin arrived a few moments later from the opposite direction. Meredith rapped her knuckles solidly on the wooden door, using Craft to enhance the sound. She took a step backwards and waited for DeSade to obey her summons.

No answer.

To pass the uneasy minutes, she drummed her fingertips against her forearm. To the other witches, she hoped to give a credible impression of annoyance when all she really felt was dread. DeSade _had_ to be there. He just _had_ to be. Meredith held onto that belief with every fiber of her being, erecting a façade over the whispering doubts in the back of her mind. She threw an irate glare at the other three.

“The thanks I get for offering him anything.” She broke the Red shield lock on his door, and then turned to her backup plan. In a more solicitous tone she cooed, “Bethaeny, would you be a dear and see what’s keeping the Prince?”

“Me,” the witch squeaked. “Go in the Prince’s suite?”

“Of course you.”

“But I don’t even have a ring. What if he-”

“He won’t even notice you,” Meredith lied breezily. “DeSade is likely still occupied with that servant witch. I only wish to confirm that he is following my instructions, so you need only take a quick look and come right out again.”

Bethaeny looked dubious, but understood that she had no choice. She reached for the handle and pushed the door open enough to edge her way inside. Two- maybe three- minutes passed before the witch flew out again and slammed the door shut behind her. At first, she merely stared at them, wide-eyed and terrified. Then she doubled over and retched violently. The rest of them jumped back to avoid being splashed as Bethaeny’s stomach heaved a second time. She collapsed against the door and slid to the ground, shaking all over and rocking herself as she sobbed hysterically. Meredith shot Ettia a pointed look, and the witch knelt in front of her cousin.

“Bethaeny? Cousin, what’s wrong? What did you see?”

“ _Pieces_. She’s-” Bethaeny gulped in a shaky breath and swallowed before she could finish “-in _pieces_.”

_So much for the idea of letting DeSade impregnate the bitch. He couldn’t even follow order to keep her alive._ Unable to contain her frustrated anger, Meredith railed, “No doubt the Prince was pleased to show you his handiwork. Rest assured, he’ll pay for-”

“He wasn’t in there.”

“What did you just say?”

“DeSade wasn’t in the suite.”

Valinna glanced over at Meredith before she pressed the witch, “Are you _sure_? Could he have been in another part of the suite that you didn’t check?”

“You can’t make me go in there again,” Bethaeny screeched shrilly, clinging to Ettia. “I won’t go in there again.”

The girl had no spine at all. Meredith regarded her with pure disgust. DeSade was still in there. Playing games with them as he always did. She might as well go in and see the damage he’d done to the bitch. And once she had, she’d devise a punishment befitting having disobeyed her orders. DeSade _would_ suffer for this. Suffer for a long time.

But then Meredith crossed the threshold. Once inside the suite, freezing remnants of cold temper knocked her own rage aside. Meredith’s step faltered a moment, unprepared for the onslaught against her barriers. She forced herself to keep walking. Down the short hallway and into the Prince’s bedroom. With each step, the rage grew stronger- the air around her so chilled that her breath created plumes of frosted ice crystals. And then she gazed upon the room itself.

_Mother Night._

A whisper of movement told her that Valinna stood at her side, surveying the carnage with grim dismay. They remained silent for a full minute before the witch told her in a low undertone, “If we don’t find the Prince and figure out how to cage him for good, this is a taste of what destruction he will unleash across Hayll.”

“He could still be here somewhere.”

“I doubt it.”

“And his Ring- what do you say of that, Valinna?”

A beat passed, and then two.

“If he’s still wearing it, I’d say the Prince is no longer controlled by it.”

* * *

**2/Terreille**

Twelve pair of eyes bored into her in a solid wall of stubbornness. Lilith tried not to sigh, but she really was looking forward to getting back to days where she wasn’t the constant focal point of male attention. Far easier when she could foist most of it onto Queens more suited to the duty. Which was what Lilith was trying to do now…if Paeter, Dahlen and the others would let her. The meeting in the blue room had gone well enough- as had collecting their Rings- but then they’d set their heels down and wouldn’t budge.

_And so here we are, squaring off in a fetid alleyway only blocks away from Meredith’s hall when we could be halfway to Gwynn’s district already._

“I don’t need to rest,” she protested for the umpteenth time. “I’m _fine_.”

_Are you? Are you_ really _?_

_Yes._

_Because you didn’t_ sound _all that ‘fine’ when you ran into Dahlen._

_That was just-_

_Just what?_

A disaster, that’s what it was. All of it. This whole morning had been one disaster after another. She’d failed to convince Alex to go with her- not because he didn’t want to go, but because he didn’t want to go _with her_. He’d tried to claim it was a matter of needing ‘time’ to decide, but they’d both known it was a lie. Perhaps a well-meaning one on his part, but a lie all the same.

_Hurts, doesn’t it?_

_Yes._

It hurt so much that Lilith fled his suite to escape the pain. Ran away so fast that she’d forgotten about the Ebon-Black shield until it was too late. Worse yet, she hadn’t regained her self-control before crossing paths with Dahlen. Unfortunate timing, to say the least, as her erratic behavior had given him an impression that Alex had been at fault. Lilith had done her best to correct the Warlord’s assumption, she knew his suspicions were far from allayed. But while she may have closed the debate on discussing that subject, Dahlen had only redirected his efforts along an equally obstinate path.

“You said yourself that it’s been a long few days,” he argued, right on cue. “We’ve a decent head start and the element of surprise on our side, so there’s time enough for you to take a half-hour for yourself, Raenel.”

“No, there’s not. Meredith will comb this entire district looking for you all before sundown. We have to keep moving and get you to a place where her spies won’t be able to track you down.”

A few of the men traded uncomfortable looks and glanced at the crumbling buildings around them. Even if they wouldn’t admit it aloud, they knew she was right. Every minute they stood here increased the chances that they would be discovered and hauled back to that bitch. Lilith didn’t have to tell them what they could expect by way of punishment for their defection. Meredith certainly wouldn’t be merciful enough to simply execute them. Lilith cast a look over her shoulder to Paeter, hoping that he could make the younger Warlord see reason.

He stepped forward and held up a hand to silence Dahlen mid-protest, “She’s right. We can’t stay here.” And then he turned back to her. “Trouble is, Raenel, we’re not sure where else we can go. Meredith controls Draega, and we’ll never make it far enough to get out of the city before she sets after us.”

“She doesn’t control as much as you’d think.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I know of several places in Draega where we could stay- places that aren’t beholden to her or any of her pet Queens.”

More skeptical looks. Lilith didn’t take it personally, since all these men had ever known had been pain and torture at the hands of those bitches. Conditioned to believe that their power in Hayll was absolute and inescapable. Even getting them to trust her _this_ much had taken her several weeks. Hopefully, she could ask for a little bit more. Enough to get them safely out of Meredith’s reach.

“Where might that be,” one of them asked.

“Northeast of here- maybe another dozen blocks or so away. It’s the closest one and would be our best chance.”

Paeter surveyed the group, looking for a consensus. No one else wanted the responsibility of making a decision, leaving him to carry on himself. Just as he’d been doing for decades. Lilith already knew what question he would pose next; she wasn’t looking forward to having to answer it.

“What sort of place is this, Raenel? An abandoned building or secret hideaway, or…?”

“A five by five block section of the city where others like yourself have gathered into a community. When I’m not there they follow the guidance of Lady Gwynn.”

As expected, the mention of a witch- a Queen no less- sent a rumble of disquieted murmurs through the group. Even Paeter appeared less than comfortable, unequal to the task of voicing his concern. Jaeren, on the other hand, had no such trouble.

“ _Lady_ Gwynn?” He crossed his arms, eyes narrowed, and challenged, “You’re talking about a Queen, unless I miss my guess. So I have to wonder why we should expect her to be any different from Meredith’s bitches.”

“I won’t lie to any of you. Gwynn is a Queen.” The mutterings grew louder, and so Lilith projected her next words to be heard over the din. “As to why she’s different- you will have to take me at my word that she genuinely cares about the people under her protection. If she didn’t, I wouldn’t recommend going there. But,” she paused. “I won’t force anyone to go who isn’t willing. So if you’d rather strike out on your own from here, that’s your choice.”

She’d said all she could say. Judging from the expressions on the faces of several Warlords, they would not be joining her. Too many bad memories and not enough trust left to give. If they could get out of Draega, leaving the city altogether would be their best hope in finding a new life. In the end, half of the men stepped backward. The darkest-jeweled member of the group tipped a respectful nod to Lilith.

“My brothers and I appreciate what you’ve done for us, Lady. But putting our fate back in the hands of another Queen- even a good one- just isn’t something we can do.”

“I understand, and may the Darkness embrace you on the next phase of your journey. You’re welcome to travel with us until we reach Gwynn’s territory.”

He shook his head, saying, “Appreciate the offer, but this many in a group is bound to attract attention. We’re thinking that it might be best to part ways here.”

“All right, then,” she agreed with a slight nod. After sweeping a long look over them, she said, “I’ll offer you all what I can for advice, and hope it serves you well. If you plan to stay in Draega, the further away you are from the central districts the better. When leaving the city, southwest and northeast routes will be the safest. The other Hayllian provinces will offer some opportunities, but it’s still a risk. Get to Dhemlan or Askavi if you can; they’ll have resources to help you if you survive long enough to make it that far.”

“Thank you, Lady.”

She watched solemnly as the men melted into the shadows, leaving only six warlords behind. No guarantee any of the ones who’d chosen their own path would see the end of the day, but she’d done what she could for them. Now to focus on what she could do for those determined to stay. But first, she wanted to be _sure_ they wanted to see this through.

“Were the rest of you all coming with me, then?”

Dahlen and Paeter would, despite their uneasiness about coming to the attention of a Queen. As would Cassel. Lilith admired their courage and faith in her. As for the other three- Jemal, Vaughn and Jaeren- they weren’t quite as committed. The last of those looked as though he might have tried arguing for a different plan, but ultimately chose to keep his reservations to himself. She’d have to keep an eye on him once they arrived at Gwynn’s district. For now, though, she took silence as assent.

“Well, we best be on our way, then.”

Lilith turned on her heel and head off before anyone could renew the topic of ‘resting’. Didn’t stop Dahlen from catching up to her within a few strides. Hadn’t even gone more than a half-block when he started on the subject again.

“Raenel, are you sure-”

“Dahlen, for the last time- I’m okay. It’s an hour’s walk at the most. I’ll rest once we get to Gwynn’s district.”

“What about a Healer?”

_Not this again_. He and Paeter had voiced their insistence that she be seen by a Healer several times. _Never mind that I am a fully qualified Healer and can look after myself._

“I already told you that I don’t need one.”

“I know you _think_ you’re okay, but wouldn’t it be wise to get a second opinion? Based on the circumstances?”

The circumstances being she’d spent three days battling a large dose of _safframate_ \- two of them with a Warlord Prince who specialized in torturing witches. It wasn’t so much _her_ skills the Warlord mistrusted, but Alex’. No amount of assurances had cured him of that mistrust. So perhaps it’d be easier to just give in and prove that nothing happened.

“If I go see one, will you be satisfied that I am fine?”

He paused to think and then answered, “I’d agree that he didn’t physically hurt you as you as you say. But something _did_ happen with DeSade, Raenel, whether you want to admit it or not. You can keep insisting that you’re ‘fine’; I know better than to believe you.”

“You don’t…”

“I’m not asking you to tell me. None of us is. We’re just saying that you don’t have to pretend.”

“I know,” Lilith told him after a minute, keeping her eyes fixed ahead. “But it’s best to just let this go. Move on and put it all behind.”

* * *

**3/Terreille**

“What do you mean ‘if’? DeSade _has_ to be wearing that Ring. The damned thing can’t be removed by anyone other than an Ebon-gray witch.”

“We never tested it,” Valinna pointed out. “We merely _assumed_ when the Prince couldn’t break free that it was working as the records told us it would.”

A mistake. A very costly mistake, considering how little they would have lost if they’d tested it on someone expendable first. Now the bastard had slipped the one and only control they had. Valinna didn’t like it one bit. Didn’t like any of this. Hadn’t she _tried_ to warn Meredith that the Prince was too dangerous? But the bitch hadn’t listened, and now that vicious killer was loose in Draega.

“He’s gone, then.”

Gone? Valinna doubted that very much. For all they knew, he was still in this very room, hidden by a sight shield neither one of them could detect. Just waiting for the opportune moment to strike. And since Meredith hadn’t considered that scenario herself, Valinna accepted the burden of enlightening her.

“I wouldn’t put it on those terms. DeSade wouldn’t leave Draega with unfinished business, and I’m sure you can agree that leaving any of us alive would top that list. With the Ebon-gray to back him, he has more than enough power to take both of us down- and most of the coven besides. The question is: Why didn’t he?”

“Maybe because he wanted us to see this first,” Meredith suggested with unexpected insight. “A preview meant to seed the imaginations of the coven.”

She couldn’t deny the effectiveness of such a strategy. Once word spread, they’d soon have full-blown panic on their hands. The coven would flee in hopes of escaping, and their control over Hayll would crumble in a matter of weeks. Centuries of work undone with no hope of regaining it- even if Valinna managed to survive the nightmare. Death would be preferable to seeing the territory fall, however excruciating that death may be.

_That son of a bitch knows it, too._

_Don’t let him take Hayll away, then. Keep fighting. As long as you’re still alive, keep fighting._ That’s what she’d told herself about Tekel, and that’s what Valinna aimed to do now. _Starting with this attempt to intimidate us. He thinks he can scatter the coven? Well, I can do something to prevent that._

“We should convince the coven he’s still in here,” she proposed.

“What?”

“Until the Prince tips his hand about where he’s gone, we should stall for time. Make up a story and keep the others believing they’re safe.”

Meredith stared at the mangled corpse on the bed for a second or two. Anger smoldered there, but Valinna doubted the Queen’s temper was focused on what truly mattered. Far more likely she was preoccupied with thoughts of how DeSade’s escape had spoiled any fantasies of bedding him. Irritating on one hand; useful on the other. If she wasn’t going to approach the situation from a logical perspective, better to have her too distracted to care what Valinna wanted to do.

“For all the good that will do.”

“And if we recapture him-” _unlikely-_ “you need not ever admit he escaped your control.”

“Yes,” Meredith agreed slowly. “Yes, I can see the advantage in your idea. But I suppose something will have to be done about Ettia and her cousin.”

“Leave that to me. Hourglass Craft can be used to fog any memories of what Bethaeny saw in this room. After that, it’s a simple matter to influence their _understanding_ of what happened. You’ll want to dispose of the body, though, just to be sure no one else sees it.”

Without another word, Meredith lobbed a ball of witchfire at the bed and threw a shield over it. Then she turned to Valinna with an arch look. “I believe that ought to do it,” she retorted, and stalked out of the room.

Valinna stared at the charred piece of furniture that was quickly reduced to ash, mildly annoyed. As expedient as Meredith’s solution was, it would have been far less conspicuous and wasteful to have vanished the soiled bedcovers and the body. But she could hardly be surprised; she’d had years of experience combating the Queen’s impulsive nature. Tallying this one up as a loss, she returned to the hallway.

Meredith was nowhere to be seen. Meanwhile, Bethaeny hadn’t risen from the floor, clinging to her cousin and shaking all over. The latter was doing her best at pretending to comfort her, but Ettia wasn’t known for being the sympathizing kind. _Who among us is?_ It had made her a valuable asset to the First Circle, but wasn’t going to help with what Valinna hoped to accomplish.

Wrapping a soothing spell around her voice she stooped down next to the two witches. Valinna gently petted Bethaeny on the shoulder and strove for the most convincing performance she could muster. “It must have been quite a shock, my dear, to have walked in on the Prince. But do realize that men like him can be fiercely temperamental.”

Bethany made no reply. Ettia, however, tilted a quizzical look in Valinna’s direction. The spells hadn’t quite hooked into her yet, and so her reaction reflected a touch of disbelief. “Temperamental? This went way beyond ‘temperamental’, from what I heard.”

“I assure you that it was all a misunderstanding.”

“But all the blood,” Bethaeny protested.

“Your imagination,” Valinna insisted with a touch more persuasion laced into her words. “Only your imagination. Something you invented because that’s what you expected to see.”

“So…she’s not really dead?”

The spells were beginning to take hold, and gradually, the witches calmed down. She slipped into Bethaeny’s mind and carefully obscured the details of what she’d seen in the Prince’s suite. The witch put up little resistance, preferring to believe the comforting lie over recalling the horrific truth. And Ettia, well, she was inclined to discount anything her cousin claimed. The naïve farm girl was known for having ‘flights of fancy’.

“Not at all. The Prince would never disobey the Queen’s command,” Valinna lied. “She just finished negotiating with him regarding his request for more time with the witch.” _And that will explain why I’m not calling the coven back to witness an interrogation that will never take place._ “Now, why don’t we join the rest of the coven? I need to convey this change in plans.”

She watched as Ettia assisted her cousin to stand. They trailed a half-step behind her during the long walk to the dining hall. Upon entering the space, Valinna noticed that Meredith was conspicuously absent. She had likely gone back to her suite to sulk. Or to vent her frustration on the two remaining blood males left in the residence. Either way, Valinna was glad to have her elsewhere so that she could address the coven herself.

The rest of the witches were all gathered around the long table, grumbling amongst themselves. If she had to guess, they were lamenting the loss of the pleasure slaves. Yet another topic she was keen to address without Meredith here to undermine her. Valinna left Ettia and Bethaeny to take their seats and strode to the head of the table. Wasn’t too long before she had the attention of every witch in the room.

“Good day, Ladies. I’m sure you’re all aware that it has been an eventful morning here in the Hall.” Hushed murmurs. “The Queen has asked me to convey a few announcements to you all regarding recent events.”

They waited expectantly.

“One: The sudden disappearance of the pleasure slaves. As you all know, Zirah’s controlling ring failed several days ago. And now this morning, the rest of you have discovered that your rings no longer work. I have been researching Craft texts for the past few days, and discovered a potential cause.”

A blatant lie. She’d gotten no help from any of the Craft texts available. Not from standard Craft books, not any of her Hourglass texts, and even less than nothing from the texts locked away from the coven for security reasons. And so Valinna had spent the past few days coming up with a _plausible_ cause in the event something like this happened.

“The binding spells between the controlling ring and its corresponding Ring of Obedience is dependent upon maintaining a stable primary owner. Shifting the wearer of the primary ring weakens its efficacy over time. If weakened too much, the spells imbued into the Ring fade altogether.”

Outrage threatened to turn the assembly to chaos, but Valinna quickly silenced any lingering complaints.

“Yes, I know it’s an upsetting and…regrettable…discovery to have made when the error is too late to correct. But our Sisters from before the Purge kept crucial details about these Rings hidden so as to prevent blood males from discovering a means of escape. They hadn’t anticipated that a purge would wipe out their ability to pass on their knowledge orally to future generations.”

* * *

**4/Terreille**

Bethaeny sat between Ettia and Kirsten, eyes downcast. Despite Valinna’s assurances that she’d only imagined the gruesome scene in DeSade’s suite, she couldn’t completely shake the feeling that she had seen _something_ in there. Something that filled her with dread and terror. Something she suspected the Black Widow didn’t want her to recall.

_Do I really_ want _to recall it?_

In all honesty, no. She wanted to forget she’d ever set foot in that room and the close brush she’d just had with certain death. Which was why she didn’t fight Valinna’s soothing spell. Or that insidious feeling of intrusion at the back of her mind. She _should_ have. Should have pushed back. Because Bethaeny knew the witch was likely up to something. And maybe if she’d held onto her wits she’d know what that was.

_To what end? What did you intend to do, even if you did discover what they’re trying to hide? Opal against the Red and Gray- what chance do you think you’d have?_

_Maybe I could’ve convinced some of the others…_

_Forget it. Even your own cousin doesn’t take you seriously half the time. How do you expect anyone else to believe you, much less stand with you against Meredith and Valinna?_

Bethaeny sighed, knowing it was true. Meanwhile, the Black Widow talked on about the loss of their Rings, and the pleasure slaves. For her part, she wasn’t all that upset. Meredith’s demonstration had cured her of any desire to force a blood male into her bed. Indefinitely. In fact, she was rather glad they’d all escaped and couldn’t be used that way by any witch.

Witches like Idrina and Kaeremi, who were far from happy at the latest turn of events. They were among the loudest to complain about the hardship to ‘do without’- and among the first to insist on having immediate solution. Valinna assured them that measures would be taken to restore normalcy. To Bethaeny’s ear, though, that promise sounded a bit forced.

“We’ll speak more on that subject later, Ladies,” the witch announced firmly, ending the discussion. “Just know that in the meantime, you are all advised to take extra precautions for your own safety- both here in the Hall and when you’re out in the city. The Queen and I have not yet ascertained how widespread the issue is with the Rings.”

After a few minutes’ hesitation, Seren asked the question foremost on everyone’s mind. “What of the Prince’s Ring?”

“Fortunately, as the primary controlling ring has always remained with the Queen, DeSade is still firmly under our control.” Amid relieved sighs all around, she added, “However, he will be confined to his suite for the next few weeks to ensure no one is at risk.”

_Let’s just hope that confinement is solitary, and that I won’t be made to join him._

Finished with all she intended to say, the Black Widow departed amid a flurry of questions. When she’d gone, Seren and Geara took center stage to deliver instructions that provided more details on Valinna’s order. The latter focused on members of Bethaeny’s circle.

“We can’t afford to be careless, and so for the next week, none of you are to leave the mansion in groups less than three. Jewels must be worn at all times when in the city. If approached by a blood male,” she leveled a severe look. “Destroy him on sight. Do _not_ hesitate and put yourself at risk. Is that understood?”

Bethaeny nodded along with the others, despite having no intentions of leaving for the foreseeable future. She half-listened as other instructions were passed down about daily activities and various duties the coven was expected to assume in the coming days. Then witches gradually drifted away from the table- off to pursue what entertainments they could find. Until only she and Ettia remained behind.

“Are you all right,” her cousin asked.

Bethaeny shrugged. “Alive, which is more than I expected to be when Meredith sent me into the Prince’s suite. So I suppose that counts as ‘all right’.”

“I can have a brew sent up to my room if you want to talk for a while.”

“Okay.”

They got up from the table and headed for the wing reserved for First Circle witches. She rarely saw this part of the Hall; Ettia had been reluctant to invite her here after she was promoted. Bethaeny got the distinct impression her cousin was embarrassed by her, and hadn’t wanted witches like Seren or Idrina to see them together. True, Ettia had shown more interest in her these past few days. But they’d always met in Bethaeny’s suite.

She couldn’t be bothered to question why the change this time. Just didn’t care. And so Bethaeny mutely followed her cousin down the corridor, allowing her to usher them both inside. While Ettia closed the door behind them, Bethaeny glanced around the room. As expected, it was immaculate- everything in order and nothing out of place. No mismatch of random furniture or accents. The perfect showroom, as Bethaeny like to call it.

_I don’t know how she stands it_.

Knowing what was expected of her, she toed off her shoes at the door; wouldn’t _dare_ think of keeping them on to track dirt onto the light tan area rug. Seemed a stupid color for a rug to Bethaeny. Why pick something so prone to stains and grime? But that was Ettia. She’d always preferred pastels and such over bolder colors. Living in her bland little bubble.

_I suppose I could use a little blandness right now._

Curling up in one of the seafoam armchairs, Bethaeny ignored her cousin’s disapproving frown at the thought of feet on her furniture. Didn’t even stir when a knock at the door announced the arrival of their requested brew. The witch bringing it carried the tray into the sitting area and set it on the serving table. She looked to Ettia.

“Will there be anything else, Ladies?”

“No, that will be all.”

A bob curtsey and then the witch left. Bethaeny waited until her cousin had poured a cup for herself before getting one of her own. Even then, she sat cradling the warm porcelain in her hands for several minutes before taking a sip. Lemongrass. Not one of Ettia’s favorites, but one Bethaeny enjoyed. Raising the cup in an appreciative salute, she murmured a polite, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Ettia?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think Meredith will still hand me over to DeSade?”

Her cousin sat quietly, not in any hurry to answer the question. And then she set her teacup back on its saucer. “I don’t know, Bethaeny. Maybe not in the next few weeks, but if he gets bored with that witch she gave him, I expect she’s liable to send you in eventually.”

“Do you think there’s anything I can do to change her mind?”

“That depends on what you’re willing to do,” Ettia answered.

Bethaeny wanted to say she’d do anything, but held back the words before they came out. They’d be a lie, and her cousin would know it. She could parrot the words Ettia and everyone else kept using. She could force herself to watch Meredith’s demonstrations. But if asked to take action herself…Bethaeny wasn’t sure she could. Not sober, anyway.

_So what_ am _I willing to do?_

“I dunno.” She took another long sip of her brew. “What do you think she’d ask of me?”

Ettia sighed.

“That’s the trouble with you, Cousin. That’s why you don’t belong here. It’s not about waiting for Meredith to _ask_ , it’s about showing her she doesn’t _have_ to.”

* * *

**5/Terreille**

Paeter exchanged a look with Dahlen. They’d both heard words like that before, but not expressed in that sort of tone. The pain he recognized from warlords who had been forced to serve in the bed. Absent, however, had been the anger that typically came with that pain. Raenel’s voice conveyed something else entirely- regret and guilt. A combination that Paeter found truly puzzling.

_What happened in that suite, Raenel?_

He wouldn’t ask. It wasn’t his place to ask, and he kept his eye on Dahlen to ensure that he wouldn’t, either. But that look wouldn’t stop him for long, so Paeter redirected the conversation to a less personal topic.

“What is the plan once we get to Lady Gwynn’s district,” he queried.

“Well,” she hedged. “The most prudent course of action would be to meet with Gwynn directly. She would know what lodgings are available and have ideas where all of you could settle in.”

“I see.”

“But I can understand why that approach may not be very appealing.”

Raenel was right. He wasn’t enthusiastic about offering himself up to a Queen after just winning his freedom from that bitch Meredith and her coven. Years of brutality. Humiliation. Outright torture. All done at their hands. But he weighed his loyalty and trust in Raenel. She hadn’t let any of them down in any of the promises she’d made them.

_If she trusts that we’ll come to no harm, then I’m willing to take her word._

“I’ll go with you,” he told her. “Not sure about the others, but if you think a representative would be helpful, then I’ll volunteer.”

Dahlen arched an eyebrow, and then added, “Me, too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“We’re going with you, Lady.” Paeter half-turned to the others. “What about you four? Dahlen and I can meet this Queen and negotiate on everyone’s behalf if you’d rather hang back.”

Vaughn and Jemal might have done just that, but then Cassel said, “I want to see her. If I’m going to live in this district, I want to know the kind of witch ruling it.” He winced and drew in an awkward breath from his still-healing ribs. “And truth be told, she ought to see who she’s letting into her territory. Because you can all bet that Meredith will rip it apart if she ever finds us there. Lady Gwynn ought to decide if we’re worth that price.”

A sentiment the other three could hardly argue against without looking like cowards. And so it was decided the whole group would go. Paeter could only pray that the Darkness would be merciful and the decision wouldn’t turn out to be a mistake. At the end of the block, Raenel signaled them all to stop.

“The next few streets aren’t the safest, but it’s the quickest route to get to Gwynn’s district. If you all avoid eye contact and stay close behind me, anyone looking on will assume I’m transporting you to one of Meredith’s pet Queens. I can take a longer route through neutral territory, though, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

Glances all around, but no one was making a decision. Finally, Dahlen must have felt they were wasting too much time and stated, “I don’t want to give Meredith or her spies more opportunities to capture us, and taking the long route just feels like a bad choice. Neutral territory or not.”

Raenel waited a half-second for anyone to voice an objection. When no one did, she blew out a breath and set forward again. Their careful procession made it across the square and down the next street. More than once, he noted witches direct a curious look in Raenel’s direction. But thankfully, not one ever questioned him or the others in her wake. They continued that way for some time, and then she stopped again.

“We’re on the edge of Gwynn’s district,” Raenel told them. “I’ve given her a head’s up so that no one is caught unawares.”

The street ahead looked deserted to Paeter. Almost as if no one had lived there in decades. So he wasn’t sure who would be surprised. Or the decaying appearances could be intentional- a ‘buffer zone’ that the community didn’t use. And then they crossed to the opposite side. Between one step and the next, the deserted street morphed into a lively row of small shops and businesses.

His feet ground to a halt so fast that Jaeren trod on his heel before he and the others caught sight of the transformation. The six of them just stood, staring in disbelief. Unwilling to credit any of it could be real.

“Mother Night,” Cassel murmured. “Paeter, are you seeing this?”

“Yes, and not quite sure how it’s possible.”

Raenel had already gone a few yards before she realized she’d lost the rest of her traveling party. She turned and walked back to them.

“I suppose I should have given you all a warning, too. Forgot that you can’t see through the illusion spells.”

“The…what?”

“Illusion spells. They fool anyone approaching this part of the city into thinking it’s an uninhabited dead zone. If you’d been any of the tainted bitches or their pets, you’d have felt an intense repulsion at the mere idea of entering the area.”

“And if one of them _did_ enter it?”

“They can’t.”

The terrifying conviction in those words sent an icy shiver down his spine. Paeter tried to convince himself he’d misheard. “I’m sorry…what?”

“They can’t enter this place,” Raenel repeated with slightly less intensity, and then she heaved a sigh. “Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

He really didn’t want to, but she was already several strides away. And since he’d already come this far, Paeter wasn’t going to turn back. He picked up his pace while the others fell in line behind him. A group of silent observers taking in the incredible sights around them. Witches, warlords- Hayllians of all ages and castes going about their ordinary lives. Paeter wasn’t sure how to reconcile any of it against the Draega he’d always known.

*How long do you think this place has existed?*

*No idea. Longer than a decade or two.* _Longer than I spent in Meredith’s clutches, I’m willing to wager._ *What I’d like to know is why I’ve never heard of it*

*Likewise.* A pause. *What do you think Raenel meant when she said witches like Meredith can’t enter this place*

Paeter had a working theory, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to share it. He shrugged at his friend. *Anyone’s guess*

*So what would _yours_ be* Dahlen pressed.

*Meredith and her Black Widow couldn’t pry open Raenel’s inner web. She survived a mind-shattering dose of _safframate_ \- not to mention DeSade.* He gave Dahlen a moment to let all that sink in. *Dahlen, I think it’s fair to say that Raenel’s Rank Jewels are darker than Sapphire. _Much_ darker.*

His friend did not disagree, and looked as though he was about to pose a theory of his own when the group shuffled to a stop outside an impressive two-story building. The Queen’s residence, he suspected. Two warlords flanked the entrance, sharp eyes roving over each of them. Watchful and assessing. But when those eyes came back to Raenel, the men relaxed. One even grinned.

“Raenel- you said you’d be bringing us company, but we expected greater numbers from the task you set out to do.” The Tiger-eye’s grin faltered. “Did it go badly, then?”

“No, Lord Ellard. In truth, it went well. But half the group decided to split off once we got clear of Meredith. Is Lady Gwynn available?”

“She is, and she’s expecting you,” answered the Summery Sky beside him, whose dour expression hadn’t changed. “Were you meeting alone?”

“Actually, the warlords with me wanted to be introduced straight off.”

He didn’t break his stare, but must have sent a signal. Within minutes, another three warlords appeared, one of them wearing an Opal Jewel. _Message received_. Not a _threat_ exactly, but clearly these men were letting their group know Lady Gwynn would be well protected. And yet Paeter noted the lack of menace when compared to the sort of ‘protection’ Larkin and Othar provided for Meredith. He hoped that would be a good indicator of the difference in temperament.

“We’ll be glad to serve as your escorts, then, Lady.”

Raenel considered the tone and the men now standing between her and the entrance. He might have thought she’d be annoyed at the show of distrust, but she merely smiled at them and said, “We welcome your hospitality, Lord Nareth.”

With that, the Warlord took position on Raenel’s left as the other four men took theirs at the front and back of the assembly. The group then entered the building and were led down a long corridor. Paeter didn’t have time to take in much of the details, but he could tell that the walls had been recently painted and a carpenter was in the process of replacing baseboard and trim.

Before he knew it, they were ushered into a room at the end of the hall and he found himself standing before the Queen. Paeter wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the petite woman staring back at him with dark gold eyes caught him off-guard. She couldn’t have been much more than a few centuries old- far younger than he’d expect for someone ruling a whole district. And one thing more. Something about her gave Paeter a strange sense of…belonging. As if he was meant to be here and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Lady Gwynn rose to her feet and approached Raenel. She threw her arms around the witch in a fervent embrace before leaning back to give her a teasing smack on the arm. “What took you so long!!? You scared me to death, Raenel.”

“Things got a little complicated, Gwynn.” The witches shared another embrace. Raenel then gestured to him and the others. “I hope you can help me out, my friend. These warlords could use a new start.”

Gwynn’s gaze swept over them, lingering briefly on Paeter before moving on down the line. She smiled. A genuine smile- the kind he’d only seen from Fawne and Raenel.

“I’d be delighted to welcome all of them to our community.”


	11. Momentary Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thus far, the story has focused on Terreille; it's time we heard from Jaenelle Saetien ('Nelle for short) in Kaeleer. She's Lilith's friend and she's extremely concerned. As are their two feline friends. The trio is doing their best to suppress that worry to keep Lilith's secret from the rest of the SaDiablos. But they have an idea to talk to the one person who might be able to help them. Trouble is, their visit leaves 'Nelle feeling even more unsettled.
> 
> In Terreille, Dahlen and the others are still adjusting to their new home. Paeter and Cassel have taken to Gwynn, even though they don't quite know how to describe the feeling they have for the young Queen. For Dahlen, though, he doesn't feel the same. Even worse, he's torn with guilt about Kareal, who is making do in Meredith's hall. Meanwhile, Lilith is having an interesting chat with Lady Gwynn about Protocol. Their talk stirs up memories of how she got started in Hayll. Which leads her to where things are headed next for Gwynn and Hayll. And then there's Alex, who is learning about the type of Protocol Liilth's been teaching to Hayllians in another district of Draega.

**1/Kaeleer**

Lilith hadn’t come back. ‘Nelle counted the days since her friend left for Hayll, and knew that something had gone awry. She _should_ have returned over a week ago if everything had gone as planned. Granted, a delay didn’t necessarily mean trouble. Any number of little things could have added a day or two. Maybe a whole week. But no matter how many times she’d repeated that to herself, the longer her friend stayed in Hayll, the more nervous ‘Nelle became.

 _I should have tried harder to convince Lilith to let me go with her. After all, Sapphire is no match for Meredith’s Gray._ Then again, ‘Nelle wasn’t entirely certain Lilith didn’t have another Jewel to back up the Sapphire. True, she’d only ever sensed a Birthright Jewel whenever her friend was around. _That doesn’t mean she hasn’t been masking a Rank Jewel, though._

When Lilith got back, ‘Nelle intended to ask her about it…right after she threatened to strangle her for scaring her this badly.

_And after Papa is finished scolding her._

He was bound to be angry when she told him where Lilith had gone- with both of them. ‘Nelle wasn’t looking forward to that part. Not one bit. But if anything _happened_ to her friend while she was there and someone had to go into Hayll to rescue her…Papa would be _furious_. ‘Nelle didn’t want to contemplate his reaction should the worst happen- if Lilith got herself _killed_ and wound up in Hell among the demon dead.

*When is the Lady coming home?*

‘Nelle looked over at Haedyn and admitted that her Papa wouldn’t be the only one who would be furious. If Lilith came to harm in Hayll, Taenne and Haedyn would be most upset. They were never happy about her going to Hayll without them. Hardly surprising behavior for Warlord Princes. Especially when those Princes also happened to be Arcerian.

“She’ll be home soon.”

*You said that before* Taenne growled.

“I know, and I promise that when I’m done yelling at her for being late, you can have a turn.”

*Is dangerous to go to the damaged territory alone*

“She’s always comes back all right. This trip is just taking a little longer, that’s all.”

Haedyn padded over to her and laid his head in her lap. ‘Nelle obliged him and scratched his ear. The cat purred loudly, but she knew he was still worried about Lilith. He sat back on his haunches. *Find out why?*

“Not this time. She said she wouldn’t be able to leave messages at the Keep like before.”

*Go find her?* Taenne suggested.

“You know you can’t do that,” ‘Nelle replied sharply, worried that they might actually try to go to Draega. “Hayll is even more dangerous for the both of you than it is for Lilith.”

And that was true. ‘Nelle’s friends in Terreille had told her horror stories of what happened to blood males in Hayll. Especially in Meredith’s court. Valinna, her Black Widow advisor, was especially dangerous, even for a Red-Jeweled Arcerian- or two. Lilith would never forgive ‘Nelle if either of them were hurt because she hadn’t been able to keep them in Kaeleer.

Haedyn’s tail twitched ominously, as did Taenne’s. The latter finally agreed, *Will wait for a while longer*

“Good- glad to hear it. We all are in this together.”

*The Strange One can help* Haedyn suggested.

‘Nelle supposed she could walk to Halaway and visit with Tersa. She hadn’t been able to give her news of Lilith’s whereabouts the last four times she’d been there, but it wouldn’t hurt to try again. At least that was more productive than sitting in her room pacing and worrying. She called in a pair of shoes to wear, stood and gave the cats each a pat on the head.

“I’m not sure if she will be able to tell us anything, but we can ask.”

On the way to the front entrance hall, ‘Nelle passed footmen and maids going about their duties. The Hall employed enough people that it could almost be considered a village in and of itself. Probably why she hadn’t ever felt the need to find her own place. Maybe someday, but for now, she felt content to live in the home where she’d grown up.

‘Nelle had just laid her hand on the door handle when she heard, “Going somewhere, witch-child?”

_Then again, there are those times when living here comes with its disadvantages._ She turned around and shrugged. “Just down to Halaway for the afternoon, Papa.”

“That’s every day this week. Unusually frequent- even for you. Any special reason?”

“I’m just visiting friends.”

“A friend in particular?”

Mother Night, it was like she was still ten years old sometimes. Didn’t matter that she was a grown witch and could manage her personal life for herself. Any time she took a lover, Papa got all edgy about it. Which, in turn, made _them_ edgy. Not many males were up to the challenge of dealing with her family. Since having her Virgin Night, ‘Nelle had only known a dozen or so short term partners. A few months or even a year or two, and then feelings would wane and they’d part company.

_It was fun and exciting for a while, but now…I dunno. Maybe Lilith’s right about sticking with platonic relationships._

‘Nelle shook herself out of those thoughts, realizing with more than a little chagrin that she hadn’t answered the question. “No, Papa. No one in particular.”

If he didn’t believe her, he didn’t let on. Instead, he let his gaze fall to the pair of furry males trailing after her. “You’re taking the cats with you?”

“They offered to stand escort for the afternoon.”

“Try to keep the village in one piece, witch-child. I don’t want Lady Mitzah in my study again so soon after the last time.”

“It’s been _months_ since that happened!” He merely stared at her. It wasn’t quite like Uncle Lucivar’s stare, but she still felt the urge to fidget. ‘Nelle released an exasperated sigh. “Yes, Papa. We’ll be good and won’t cause trouble.”

“Thank the Darkness.”

With that, he headed to his study and she was free to continue on her way. ‘Nelle counted herself fortunate that he wasn’t in a mood to ask questions. A few days ago, Papa had noticed her lack of enthusiasm at the dinner table and his probing had nearly gotten her to reveal the reason. ‘Nelle was determined not to be put in that situation again. She _had_ to stay focused. Had to keep buying time.

_And maybe if I convince them that I’m not worried, I’ll believe it myself._

**2/Terreille**

Dahlen crossed the street, headed for The Double Barrel. Since arriving with Raenel a few weeks ago, he and the others had come to think of the tavern as their favorite place to gather. Well, favorite wasn’t quite the right word- more that they felt less conspicuous when surrounded by other groups. Meeting in public still felt strange after so many years of having to keep their interactions secret. But then, a _lot_ of what they’d experienced here felt strange.

_I wonder if any of us will ever become used to witches treating us with respect._

After the audience with Lady Gwynn, the six of them had been settled at the main boarding house. Paeter had brought up the uncomfortable subject of marks; no one else had wanted to broach it for fear they’d be asked to ‘serve’ in exchange. After all, bedroom work was the only skill they had to trade. To their surprise, the Queen arranged for lodging and meals to be paid out of the district tithes for a set time. No repayment required. Just the condition that they would either take up a trade in the community or decide to leave once that period ended.

A fair deal. They’d made some progress in doing the former in the weeks since. Several members of the community took the time to escort them around. Touring Guild Street and the market square had given the group a sense of the various opportunities they’d find the district. Dahlen hadn’t seen anything that sparked his interest, but a few of the others were more enthusiastic.

He ducked inside the tavern and raised a hand in greeting to Paeter, who was waiting for him at one of the smaller side tables. As he sat down, he queried, “No one else, then?”

“Cassel said he’d be here soon, but the others are all busy this afternoon.”

“Busy doing what?”

“Jemal mentioned something about meeting with the district guards. Vaughn and Jaeren were going back to Guild Street.”

“Given that he was the most pessimistic of all of us about this whole deal, I’m surprised to see Jaeren so eager to join this community,” Dahlen remarked while signaling to Sorena, who was waiting tables today.

“I’m not,” Paeter replied.

Sorena approached the table, and yet kept an arm’s length away. All of the witches had been doing that these past few weeks. Not out of fear or disgust as Vaughn had initially proposed, but as a courtesy. Giving them the power to decide if they _wanted_ to allow a witch inside their personal space. Dahlen was grateful to have that choice. Although he felt safe in this district, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with anyone other than Raenel.

“Can I get anything for you, Warlord?”

“A flagon of ale and whatever the kitchen is serving for the midday meal, if you please.”

“I’ll put that in straight away.” She turned to Paeter. “Anything for you?”

“The same, thanks. We’ll be joined by one of our friends, and he’s asked us to order on his behalf. I expect he’ll appreciate whatever we’re having.”

“Of course.”

The witch hurried off in the direction of the kitchen. From this vantage point, she reminded him of Kareal. The same height and build. Even her hair- shorn close to the jawline instead of grown out long in the style favored by most Hayllian witches. His thoughts strayed from the present conversation as he recalled in exact detail the lover he’d had to leave behind. An ache formed in his chest.

“You’ve got that look again,” he heard Paeter say.

“I can’t help it.” The serving witch returned with their ale. Dahlen took a long drink and set it down again. “I miss her, Paeter. She was only mine of that one day, but…I miss her.”

“I know. I feel the same about Fawne.”

He nudged the tankard back and forth in front of him before summing up the courage to ask, “Do you wish you’d asked her to come with you?”

Paeter thought for several moments. Around them, the tavern was alive with conversations of the other patrons. None of them paid their discussion any attention. Dahlen raised the mug to his lips and drained a good measure of ale as he waited in nervous silence for his friend’s answer.

“Yes,” Paeter admitted at last. “If I’d known about this place, I would have asked her to leave that wretched hall with me.”

“I almost asked Kareal, but…”

“But?”

“What would I have to offer her for the risk she’d be taking? If the bitches ever caught us, Kareal would pay just as much as I would.” He finished his drink and sighed. “I couldn’t ask her to endure that. Not after just one night together.”

Paeter looked as though he was going to say something, but then their meal arrived. Carved pork slices with roasted peppers and caramelized onions on thick slices of sourdough bread. Deep fried potato wedges filled the rest of the plate. He thanked the witch and ordered a second flagon of ale. She’d delivered it and gone before his friend deemed it safe to speak again.

“You focus too much on the time spent.”

_Better than dwelling on the_ other _reason I couldn’t ask her to come with me._

He merely shrugged. “It’s a moot point now.”

“We could ask Raenel’s help to get them out for us.”

“It’s too dangerous. What if she’s seen by one of the coven bitches? It’ll ruin the plan she and DeSade worked out to make Meredith believe she was dead.”

“And how dangerous is it to leave Fawne and Kareal to the whims of the coven,” Paeter countered in a grim undertone. “How long before one or both of them wind up in the clutches of Meredith’s pet warlords?”

As much as he wanted to deny that it could happen, Dahlen knew the man was right. Keeping their heads down and trusting to luck would only work for so long. Especially now that the Rings were gone. With no pleasure slaves around, the bitches would be looking for new outlets for their twisted entertainment. Meredith already had a reputation for abusing her housekeeping staff; things were almost certain to get a whole lot worse. Could he really leave Kareal to those monsters?

“I suppose we’ve nothing to lose in asking.”

For a time, they ate in pensive silence. Then the door opened to admit Cassel. The Warlord scanned the room until he saw them and he ambled over. Quite the change from his condition when they first arrived. Dahlen was sure he made it out of the hall on sheer determination alone. But a few weeks of rest and decent food- not to mention additional healing sessions with Raenel- had speeded his recovery from Geara’s vicious attack.

“I see you’ve already ordered on my account.”

“That we did, but you’ll have to forgive us for not waiting.”

Cassel laughed. “Wouldn’t dare.” He sat in the remaining empty chair and tucked into his own meal. “I lost track of time talking with Turrin.”

“What about?”

“This and that. I was wondering if there’d be anything I could do for the Lady.”

Dahlen exchanged a quick glance with Paeter. To him, that sounded as though Cassel was interested in working at close quarters with the Queen. Finding work among the artisans and craftsmen in the district was one thing, but serving the Queen _directly_ was a whole other matter. He had to wonder if his friend had really thought it through.

“You aren’t serious,” he protested in mild shock.

“I am. I know it sounds crazy, but from the moment I saw her, I just…I dunno. It’s like I _belong_ here- with her.” Cassel shook his head and waved off the subject with his hand. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

His friend was right. He _did_ sound crazy. But when he expected to hear Paeter agree to that effect, Dahlen was caught flat-footed for a second time.

“I do. Because I felt the same way.”

“I don’t believe what I’m hearing. The both of you are talking about _serving a Queen_.”

“Yes, we are, Dahlen. But it’s not the same as what it meant to serve Meredith. This is something else.”

Obviously. Even if he didn’t understand _why_ they were willing to sign their lives over to Lady Gwynn, Dahlen knew she would never ask the kinds of ‘services’ Meredith and her coven had demanded of them. Nor would she let any other witch. But if they did offer up their services, they would be agreeing to stay on permanently. He wasn’t sure if they could leave the district without her permission.

“You’ll feel the same way one day,” Cassel assured him. “Sometimes, it just takes longer, I think.”

The words sounded as though they made sense, but Dahlen knew he’d never sign on with Lady Gwynn. He was willing to contribute to this community- wholeheartedly- and help wherever he might be needed. But he would not bind himself to this place or its Queen. He couldn’t. Because he knew the day was coming when Raenel would be leaving.

_And when that day comes, I need to be free to go with her._

**3/Terreille**

“This can’t possibly work the way you say.”

“I promise you it does,” Lilith replied distractedly, her attention focused on repairing a stack of Craft books and Protocol primers. Constant use had worn the bindings to the point pages were falling out. But she’d happily spend the hours needed to fix them if it meant that the Old Ways were returning to Hayll. Lilith only lamented that she could not smuggle more copies into the territory to meet the demand. “It absolutely does.”

“Raenel, be serious.”

“I’ve seen it firsthand. Trust me, I’m serious.”

“Fussing? They have rules about _fussing_?”

The exasperation in Gwynn’s tone prompted Lilith to close the book she held and look up. The young Queen was obviously skeptical about the passage she’d found…or one of the warlords had found, more likely. Lilith’s marks were on Ellard or Turrin. Didn’t matter who discovered that bit of Protocol, she supposed that now she would have the fun of explaining it to Gwynn.

_Like so many other things I’ve had to explain over the past half century._

When Lilith came to this section of Draega a half century ago, it had been little more than a dirty slum. Violence and intimidation made it dangerous for anyone to walk freely in its streets- even in daylight. For most, it was kill or be killed. Or worse. Which made it the perfect place for her to settle in and start working. Meredith and her pet Queens would see it as unworthy of their interest, leaving Lilith to work quietly and unnoticed as she undid millennia upon millennia of damage done to Blood society in Hayll.

Trouble was, she hadn’t really known how to begin.

And then she stumbled upon Gwynn. Young, _terrified_ Gwynn. She’d been just leaving adolescence behind at the time, but that didn’t matter to the Blood males who had her trapped in a back alley. They were out for her blood. A _Queen’s_ blood. Lilith couldn’t entirely blame them, given what they’d experienced of Queens. And yet she wasn’t going to stand by and let them unleash all that hatred on an innocent target. So she gave them a choice:

Live to rebuild the Old Ways…or die. 

Some wouldn’t, or couldn’t accept the offer. Rather, most, to Lilith’s disappointment if not surprise. But enough people had taken her offer to teach them the Protocols they’d all forgotten. Enough to build that first community. Fifty years later, Lilith was helping well over two dozen places like it remember what the Blood were supposed to be. A lot of work, and most of it spent travelling from one community to another- especially in the early days. Almost never found her way back in Kaeleer.

But that all changed when she’d met ‘Nelle. Happened quite by accident. Lilith had gone to the Keep to do some Craft research in the library, expecting to be there for an afternoon. Then ‘Nelle rounded a corner and saw her, turning an afternoon into three days. The Keep and then the Hall to meet the rest of the SaDiablo family. An experience that would’ve sent most running from Dhemlan, never to return. But Lilith gravitated towards their strong personalities.

_Probably why I couldn’t stop myself from visiting them every few weeks ever since._

 _Which means ‘Nelle ought to be beside herself with worry by now. Overdue by nearly a month and no word sent along to let her know how I’m doing._ She couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t afford any of the SaDiablos- Daemon in particular- discovering what she was doing in Hayll. _That was one fire I don’t want to light until I absolutely_ have _to._

“Raenel, are you paying attention?”

That’d be Gwynn, reminding her that she still had to explain the finer points about fussing. “Sorry, my mind wandered.”

“Well, if you’d like to wander back, maybe you could tell me why any of this makes sense.”

“Oh if you’re wanting it to make _sense_ then you are asking the impossible,” Lilith laughed as she crossed the room and took a seat. “Fussing is one of the irritating, irrational male things that is meant to drive witches crazy.”

“One of?”

“My darling, you’ve only scratched the surface of Protocol, even after a few decades of study. As I’ve said before- Blood society as a dance. Fluid and dependent on the interplay of its partners. Protocol provides the steps that rule the dance and keeps it balanced.”

“How does that explain why there are pieces of it that say I have to put up with _this_?”

“There are ways to ensure you don’t have to, but my advice is to grit your teeth and bear it.”

Gwynn stared at her if she’d lost her mind. “ _Why_?”

“Because it means you’ve selected males that truly serve you. Your First Circle needs to be committed to protecting you as their Queen, and fussing is an extension of that protection.” While the young Queen didn’t look all that convinced, Lilith saw this as a perfect time to segue into a related topic. “Speaking of Courts- I think it’s time you selected yours.”

In truth, Gwynn had been supported by an unofficial court for a handful of years now, even if she didn’t realize it. Lilith already knew which three warlords would make up the Queen’s Triangle. While they would continue on under the current circumstances as long as needed, the time had come for their positions to be recognized for what they were. Lilith only hoped that when she brought the subject up this time that Gwynn would be more receptive.

“No,” the witch protested as she shook her head. “I can’t do that. We’re not ready yet to face Meredith or her coven.”

“Did I say that’s what you were going to do?”

“You said that I was going to…”

“Select your court. That’s not the same thing as sending Meredith an open invitation for war. I’ve spent time in Shalador Nehele talking with the people there about how their Queens ruled in secret under Hekatah and Dorothea’s rule.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve already tested their techniques in other districts. It works. I think they will work well here, too, until you are ready to take on Meredith.”

A speculative look from Gwynn, who put down her Protocol book. She leaned against the windowsill and crossed her arms. “And when might that be?”

If all went according to plan, two years. Although perhaps she could cut that down to a year- or even six months- if she took more direct action. Given the turn things had taken with Alex’ rescue, speeding things along might be for the best. But Lilith couldn’t say any of that to Gwynn without inviting too many questions. So she tossed her gaze upwards and pretended to contemplate the possibilities.

“Couldn’t tell you, exactly, but it’ll depend mostly on all of you. Defeating Meredith will take strong courts.”

“If you’re talking about Jewels…”

“Oh there’s no doubt that Meredith and her coven possess superior Jewel strength,” Lilith countered quickly. “I’m talking about the kind of strength that comes from a well-matched court where Queen and her First Circle form a partnership committed to one another.”

“And you think that I can do that?”

“I’d stake the survival of Hayll on it.”

**4/Terreille**

Kareal tossed Arren two corners of a bedsheet and they set out to fold it with the same meticulous precision as the previous ten already stacked in the basket beside her. In a hall this size, laundry was a never-ending task. But not an unpleasant one when compared to most of her other duties.

“Another one done,” Arren said after they’d completed the last fold. “How many more to go?”

Kareal checked the pile. “Six, give or take.”

“Then I suppose it’s off to polish and dust for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Whose suites are you cleaning today?”

“Idrina’s, and then Geara’s. You?”

“Bethaeny and Chenoa.”

“I’d gladly trade you.”

The words were spoken lightly, intended to be taken as a joke, but Kareal couldn’t find the humor. Not whenever Idrina’s name came up. She hadn’t forgotten the look on that bitch’s face when she’d demanded Dahlen come to her suite. Nor had she forgotten the tone of his voice when he’d bade her goodbye the following morning. He may have _said_ there wasn’t time to make that farewell in person, but Kareal suspected his decision to use a psychic thread had more to do with what happened the night before.

_If I’m ever asked to do anything for her, I’ll poison the bitch._

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Arren grimaced in sympathy. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine,” she insisted while grabbing another sheet. “I’m just glad I’ve never been important enough to deal with Meredith or Valinna.”

_Like Fawne._

“Or the Prince, for that matter.”

Now _there_ was a topic best left undiscussed. Kareal hadn’t forgotten her unsettling encounter with DeSade, and Dahlen hadn’t done her any favors when he told her what had _really_ happened the morning he and the others fled the hall. To know the Prince was out there- without a Ring and no one to stop him- had kept her awake several nights over the past few weeks.

“I mean, especially now when he’s confined to his suite with that witch. At least before, they’d arrange for one of us to go in while he was out servicing the coven or whatever. Or have they just put any cleaning on hold until he’s done with her?”

_That witch had to be out of her mind to free him. He could have torn her apart._

According to Dahlen, though, DeSade had done no such thing. And while she got the sense he wasn’t entirely happy with the Prince, he made it clear that Raenel had managed to survive the _safframate_ with his help. Kareal knew what ‘help’ meant in that context, and found that detail to be the one she had the hardest time believing.

“Kareal?”

She snapped back to the present with an inward breath. “Sorry, distracted for a moment.”

“What do you think?”

“About?”

“DeSade- what do you suppose he’s done to that witch? I mean… _two weeks_. I just don’t know how she’s still alive.”

Grabbing another sheet, Kareal sidestepped the question. “I try not to think about it.”

“Yeah, but-” Arren studied her closely for a moment. “You know something, don’t you?”

Hedging wasn’t going to work at this point, and Kareal doubted the witch would believe an outright lie, even if she could manage one. But she did have one last option that she hoped would deflect Arren from asking any more questions.

“All right, I might have some information about the Prince. But it’s not exactly safe to talk about it, if you get my point. Are you _really_ sure you want me to tell you?”

“ _How_ dangerous?”

“Meredith and Valinna have been keeping secrets from the coven. What do you think they’d do if they found out you knew what they’ve been hiding?”

“I see.”

The tactic worked, and the witch didn’t press any more about DeSade. They worked in silence, finishing up the last of the linens. Kareal divided the stack in half and vanished her portion. Arren did the same, and then ventured to ask, “I know I probably shouldn’t pry- but have you heard from Dahlen at all?”

_I almost wish you’d kept asking about DeSade._

“Not since the day he and the others disappeared,” she answered, hoping her tone didn’t betray how much her heart ached with every passing day. “Why?”

“No reason. I just thought since you and him…you know…that maybe you’ve had word of how they’re doing.”

_That makes two of us._

In truth, Kareal had hoped he would send for her once he’d shaken the coven’s trail. She didn’t care if it meant leaving Draega. Or Hayll altogether, for that matter. Aside from Fawne, she had no real ties to this province after her parents died. And it wasn’t like her skills as a housekeeper wouldn’t be of use wherever they ended up; people always needed someone to take care of their undesirable chores.

But two weeks had gone by with not a single word from him. If Meredith didn’t rage daily about not having located the missing pleasure slaves, Kareal might have worried that Dahlen and his friends had been recaptured. But they were still out there, leaving her to invent reasons why she hadn’t heard from him. Like not wanting to put her at risk by sending a message. Or maybe he’d had to leave the city and was too far to contact her on a private psychic thread.

_Or maybe once Raenel won him his freedom, he realized he wasn’t as interested in a witch like me as he’d thought._

Not something she intended to tell Arren, but a discussion she might be willing to have with Fawne. After all, her friend was going through the same thing with Paeter. Couldn’t hurt to ask for her advice. But later. Once the evening meal was done and all the coven witches would settle in their rooms. Unlikely to be interrupted with any summons then.

“Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m just glad that they got away, even if it means he’s lost to me. At least Idrina won’t be able to hurt him anymore.”

“Do you-” Arren stopped short and bit her lip. “Never mind.”

“What?”

“No, I’ve already put my foot in my mouth once. Besides, I ought to get going before lady bitch summons me.”

“ _Arren_.”

The witch fussed with her skirts and then finally relented, “I was just hoping to get your opinion on something that I’ve been mulling over for the last few weeks. You and Fawne were the only two who could give me any insight- you in particular.” _Oh this can’t be good._ “Do you regret having taken Dahlen as a lover? I mean…was one night worth it?”

“Yes.” Kareal meant it. Didn’t even need to think about her answer. But she did have to wonder why Arren looked crestfallen. “Why?”

“Cassel.”

She couldn’t suppress a look of surprise, or keep it out of her voice when she said, “Oh. I didn’t know you and him-”

“We weren’t. I mean, he was always _kind_ to me, but it never went beyond that. Once or twice I thought he _might_ have been interested.”

“And you? Were _you_ interested?”

Arren blushed, which was answer enough. Then she sighed with genuine regret. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? He’s gone like the others.”

She wouldn’t say something stupid like there could be a chance of seeing Cassel again. False hope wouldn’t be of any help. Nor would words of sympathy, no matter how well-intentioned. But it was all she had, and so Kareal opened her mouth to give it, anyway. And then she felt a tap on her barriers.

“Oh hell’s fire,” she cursed. “I have to go. Lady Bethaeny is waiting.”

“I wish you luck with it. And thanks. For you know…listening.”

With a nod, Kareal assured her, “No problem.”

All in all, she didn’t mind tending to Lady Bethaeny. Especially in the days since Meredith dosed Raenel with _safframate_. Something had shifted in the witch’s attitude. Kareal didn’t _trust_ her any more than the others, but she had begun to wonder just how many of the coven witches were rethinking their loyalty to the Queen’s vision for Hayll. Those thoughts kept her well occupied until she reached Bethaeny’s suite. She rapped politely on the door.

“It’s open.”

Kareal let herself inside. As always, she suppressed a sigh at the disaster that awaited her. Sure enough, a disaster it certainly was. Clothes had been strewn _everywhere_. Shawls and the like draped haphazardly on chairs in Bethaeny’s small parlor room, trailing to the floor. No less than six pair of shoes lie scattered here and there. _Six_.

_I was just up here_ two _days ago._

The Lady herself was curled up in the window seat, staring out into the barren courtyard below. She didn’t stir or show any sign that she was aware of Kareal’s presence. Unusual. Well, unusual except for the last two weeks. The witch’s naturally bubbly personality had been subdued- if not completely buried- beneath a veil of pensive melancholy.

The sitting room could wait while Kareal tended to her other duties first. Until she dealt with the linens, she didn’t have any hands free to tidy up, anyway. Maybe if she had a Jewel darker than Tiger-eye, she could afford to vanish it all. But expending even that little bit of Craft wasn’t wise. Too easy to drain herself by the end of the day, and she couldn’t afford to walk around this place without even _some_ protection.

_For all the good it does us in the end._

Bethaeny still hadn’t budged when Kareal reemerged. Didn’t say a word while she gathered up the clothes and straightened the room. Kareal wondered why the witch had even bothered to summon her; she didn’t seem to care about the state of her suite. This could have waited for tomorrow, even. She was preparing to take her leave when Bethaeny glanced in her direction.

“Can I ask you something?”

**5/Terreille**

For such a large city, Draega felt very small. Alex had spent the last few weeks skulking around, listening to tendrils of gossip for any word about his disappearance. Nothing. Nothing about it whatsoever. The lack of pursuit had puzzled him at first, until he understood Meredith’s strategy. The bitch would pretend nothing was amiss and hope she or Valinna would recapture him before she had to admit he was lost.

A clever strategy, but fundamentally flawed. Without a Ring, Meredith couldn’t force him back under her control. And Alex certainly wasn’t going to make it easy for them to _find_ him. Almost immediately after walking out of that wretched place, he’d created an illusion spell to disguise himself as a broken, light-skinned Warlord, Vrede. With a slightly crooked nose and coarsened features, no one would ever suspect he had been an aristo Hayllian pleasure slave.

_Including you?_

 _I don’t know what you mean,_ Alex denied.

_You didn’t adopt a disguise. You ran away from yourself so you didn’t have to face-_

_Don’t._

_-what happened in that room._

Alex refused to acknowledge that thought, and retreated further into his identity as Vrede. Tried to cement in his mind the Warlord’s backstory. He’d been the _victim_ of cruelty and torture, but never _inflicted_ it. No witches screaming or bloodied sheets. No empty eyes staring at him in silent judgment. None of the images that filled his nightmares.

_You won’t be able to run forever._

The voice delivered those parting words and was gone. Alex took in a deep breath to help regain his self-control before continuing on with his errand. Market day. He was on his way to purchase a few things he needed. The kind of activity that was still a novelty to him these past few weeks; Meredith had never allowed him the freedom to do anything for himself. True, she’d almost always _given_ him whatever material things he requested. But it wasn’t the same as being able to _choose_ them for yourself.

Distracted by those thoughts, Alex didn’t notice that he’d wandered too close to the edge of the district. He was about to backtrack when he heard yelling around the corner. Then a Warlord came barreling out of an alley, nearly knocking Alex over in his haste to get away. Alex could tell that this Warlord wasn’t from here- didn’t _belong_ here. Instead of letting the man pass by, he grabbed onto him.

“Lemme go, why don’t you!”

He tightened his grip and drawled, “You seem to be in a hurry.”

“Yeah, s’pose so. And if you get in my way, it’ll be all the worse for you.”

Wearing a Summer-Sky Jewel, the Warlord probably thought he held the advantage. And while Alex wasn’t inclined to correct his assumption, he wasn’t going to back down, either. The man might talk a tough game, but his body language and tone sounded like those of a coward. Alex merely smiled at him.

“I doubt it. So why don’t you and I find out what has you running like a frightened rabbit.”

The Warlord struggled in Alex’s hold, cursing and yelling. Didn’t even try using Craft, and Alex had to wonder if that Jewel around his neck was anything more than decoration. They turned a corner to enter the adjacent alley and a chill raced down Alex’ spine. He spied a young witch lying on the cobblestones, clothes half torn off and bloody. She was barely old enough to have gone through a Birthright Ceremony.

_You bloody butcher,_ he raged.

Alex jerked the wretch off his feet and dragged him over to a trio of warlords gathered around her. They must have interrupted the attack, and had been ready to give chase. One of them was kneeling next to the injured witch, collecting her up into his arms. The men sized him up. He’d seen them often enough, mostly in the company of the district Queen. From what he could tell, they were good men; Alex hoped that they thought the same of him.

“I think this-” he gave his captive a hard shove forward- “is what you’re looking for.”

“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong!”

Two of the warlords hauled the man to his feet and shook their heads grimly. “That’s for Lady Tarine to decide.”

“I shoulda known- just a bunch of twat lickers, aren’t ya?” He jerked his head at Alex. “Even that one.”

No one answered his taunts, but the chill in the alley deepened.

“Let’s move,” the leader of the group said. When Alex hung back, he waved at him. “You, too, Warlord. She’ll want to hear what you have to say.”

Attention of any kind was the last thing he needed. But refusing would just make more trouble for him, so Alex nodded and followed the men out of the alley. By the time they’d reached the main square, Lady Tarine was waiting for them. She did not look pleased. If this had happened in Meredith’s hall, he knew what would have come next. The coven bitches would go to work torturing every male present regardless of their innocence.

_But Tarine isn’t Meredith, so what will_ she _do?_

“Lord Howe, report.”

The Warlord gave a brief explanation of the incident. A crowd had begun to gather- silent and watchful. Meanwhile, the accused Warlord continued to shout belligerent threats and insults at his captors. Tarine flicked a sharp glance to one of the warlords, who used Craft to shut him up. By the time Howe finished, Alex noticed that the young witch was now with a Healer. Then Tarine turned to him.

“And you- what did you see, Warlord?”

“I didn’t see much of anything, Lady,” he told her truthfully. “I was a street or two away when I heard yelling, and then that Warlord ran into me. Seemed best to take him back the way he’d come. That’s where I saw the girl, Lord Howe, and the others in the alley. I handed him over to them.”

“Thank you, Warlord.” Tarine’s intense gaze slid away from him and onto the man on trial. “Lord Henkel, you have broken the laws of our community and injured one of its members. You will be marked as a threat and exiled from this district of Draega. Return and you will be executed.”

“ _Exiled!?_ ” the man screeched incredulously. “For what? Just a bit of fun with the girl. No real harm done.”

“You’re lucky that bruises and scrapes- not to mention a broken hand- is all the _harm_ she suffered,” Tarine replied coldly. “If you had succeeded in raping her, I’d execute you now.” With that, the Lady stepped aside and signaled to the men restraining him. “See to it that he’s properly marked and escort him to the borders of my territory.”

Alex wondered just what she meant by ‘properly marked’. Castration seemed the most likely, but the phrasing she used seemed off if that’s what she meant. And then he watched a brazier brought out from one of the local shops- likely a metalworker. Howe called in an iron rod and stuck it into the red-hot coals. Alex saw a sigil on the end of it- a tree broken in half under an eye. A curious mix of symbols.

When the rod was thoroughly heated, Howe removed it from the brazier and turned to where two warlords held Lord Henkel. They’d placed the man’s hand palm up on a stone block. By this point, the condemned man was sweating with fear.

“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong! You can’t do this to me!”

No one came to his aid. Few people remained in the square, in point of fact. Most of them had dissipated, leaving the Queen’s men to carry out her orders. Howe swiftly pressed the brand against the exposed skin, causing the man to scream loudly. It was over in a few seconds, and then they led him away. All in all, very different from the tribunal parties Meredith arranged to entertain her coven bitches. This actually felt like justice. 

“You seem surprised,” said an unfamiliar male voice.

Alex cast the man a sideways glance and shrugged. “Haven’t ever seen that done.”

“Used to happen more often, but not so much these days.”

“I’m used to seeing much worse.”

“No doubt what you’ve seen is still going on,” the White-Jeweled Warlord admitted grimly. “But not here. Not anymore.”

“Why the change?”

The man idly scratched his head as he thought of an answer. Finally, he replied, “She gave us a choice, and we took it. Turned this district into a good place to live- so long as you’re willing to abide by the rules.”

“Rules,” Alex repeated in a strangled tone while tabling any inquiry into the name of this mysterious witch. “What sort of rules?”

“Protocol.” At his skeptical look, the man assured him, “It’s not what you think. This is different. Raenel brought the books here from her home territory and used them to teach the Old Ways, as she called them, to anyone who wanted to stay here. It was tough going at first, but to see what’s become of this place over the past thirty years…the struggles were well worth it.”

_Thirty years._

Alex was certain he knew who’d given this community that pivotal choice. Lilith and Raenel _had_ to be the same person. If she’d been coming here that long, using an alias was a smart choice if she wanted to avoid detection. Which made her actions a few weeks ago all the more reckless. How could she have let Meredith catch her- let the bitch poison her with _safframate_? What if he hadn’t been in the servant wing and she’d spent that night with Grael? What if…

_What if she’s dead?_

_She’s not. I couldn’t…_ wouldn’t _._

_But are you_ sure _?_

**6/Kaeleer**

The walk to Halaway didn’t take long, and ‘Nelle was grateful that Tersa’s cottage had been built on the outskirts so that she wouldn’t get caught up in all the midday activity in the village square. She knocked, using Craft to ensure that it would be heard. Jolinne, the Black Widow journeymaid currently looking after Tersa, opened the door a moment later. From her expression, she wasn’t surprised to see ‘Nelle. 

_But you weren’t expecting me to bring the cats along, were you?_

Ignoring the witch’s nervous glances in their direction, she got straight to business. “Hello Jolinne- is Tersa busy this afternoon?”

“She’s been working steadily all morning, but I got the impression it was something for you.”

Which explained why she was expected. Perhaps this time Tersa would be able to show her how Lilith fared in Hayll. ‘Nelle just hoped it was a _positive_ vision; Tersa’s webs could go either way- or both at the same time. If she wanted to know the answer, she’d have to see it for herself, though. Jolinne stepped back to allow her and the cats to pass by. ‘Nelle gestured to the stairs leading to the second floor.

“Is she in the workroom?”

“Yes, she is.”

She climbed the stairs and approached a large room at the back of the cottage. ‘Nelle paused at the door to watch the dark-haired witch standing at one of the tables, frowning at an unfinished web. Beside her sat a number of spidersilk spools. Tersa was always thin, rarely thinking of something as mundane as food unless prompted. Over the past few decades, her hair had begun to silver, but it was still tangled more often than not.

As a child, ‘Nelle knew her grandmother was different from everyone else, but not why. Papa had explained it to her when she’d gotten old enough to appreciate what it meant: Tersa was broken. Not just broken- she deliberately walked into the Twisted Kingdom to reclaim her Craft. Still travelled its peculiar roads to this day. It set her apart from the handful of other broken witches living in Kaeleer. Some found her unsettling, but to ‘Nelle, she was just Tersa.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t careful when dealing with the witch. Despite a lack of Jewels, her skills as a Black Widow were formidable. Dangerous, even, if something- or someone- provoked her temper. Mikal told her that Tersa had used Craft to debone a man like a chicken. Ripped his entire skeleton out of his body and left the rest intact. And so she tapped on the doorframe as a show of respect- and caution.

“Tersa?”

She turned at the sound of ‘Nelle’s voice and smiled. “Welcome, Sister.”

Haedyn and Taenne squeezed in around her knees, not waiting for an invitation. The two of them filled up most of the space. Tersa glanced at them briefly, and turned to the frame on the table. ‘Nelle ventured into the room and tried to look casual.

“Jolinne said you might be busy.”

“It won’t be enough.”

Used to Tersa’s random turns in conversation, ‘Nelle followed it, asking, “How do you know?”

“The web that hides what can’t be seen- _refuses_ to be seen. It’s already unraveling.”

_I could be wrong, but I don’t think she’s talking about_ this _web. All the threads are well-anchored._ If she pointed that out, Tersa might reveal the answer. Or it might push her too hard and ‘Nelle would learn nothing. For now, she let the topic go in favor of a more productive question.

“Could we stop it?”

Tersa shook her head sadly. “Too late.”

“Could we build a new web,” ‘Nelle suggested after a moment’s consideration.

“No, that web was already built. Already gone long ago and spun webs of its own.”

*The Strange One talks in circles that go nowhere* Haedyn complained. *Maybe is confused?*

*No* ‘Nelle answered the cat quietly. *Tersa is _never_ confused when it comes to visions. It’s just our understanding of what she says that gets tripped up*

Haedyn and Taenne shared a look and said no more. ‘Nelle didn’t blame them for their frustration. She wasn’t doing much better piecing together the fragments of Tersa’s conversation. A _new_ web that was already gone- _long_ gone- that was supposed to fix an older web that was unraveling right _now_. It just didn’t make sense. She wished that her friend was here to help her puzzle it out.

“Lilith would know the answer,” she mumbled.

Tersa faced ‘Nelle again, her expression strange and intense. “The threads are different, but the weaver sees the same pattern. It will be the wrong answer.”

“Do you mean Lilith…is she the weaver?”

“A weaver,” the witch replied warily before focusing her attention back onto the web. She selected one of the lightweight silks and continued working. ‘Nelle shuffled a few steps closer for a better view. Strand after strand was added to the web as Tersa worked. She paused for a minute, gave ‘Nelle a sideways glance and gestured to the web. “Do you see it?”

“There’s something…strange…about that web.”

The Black Widow nodded grimly. ‘Nelle studied it carefully, hoping that she could see what Tersa wanted her to see. She had completed her official training as a Black Widow decades ago, but even the most skilled in Hourglass Craft had difficulty reading Tersa’s webs. A few times, she thought she caught a glimpse of what bothered her about the web’s structure. But the next second it was gone again.

Her grandmother waited patiently, scratching Taenne’s ears. That’s when ‘Nelle finally saw it- when she looked at the web out of the corner of her eye. Now she just needed to find the right words to describe what she’d seen. At last, she chose something that seemed close enough.

“It has an echo.”

Tersa moved away from Taenne and stood in front of the web again. Head tilted slightly, she contemplated ‘Nelle’s assessment. “Echoes in the shadows, yes.”

“But the echoes are stronger- that’s not right. Shouldn’t it be fainter?”

“A memory is stronger, sometimes.”

An interesting comparison. What _kind_ of memory, she wondered- and _whose_? She studied the web a while longer, drawing out snatches of its vision. The images she saw were meant to be taken as a warning. That much she understood. Despite having many threads woven in and around one another, the whole thing was supported by a single, slender thread. If the delicate balance of the others changed or were pulled too tightly, the whole web would collapse.

The echo thread was dangerously close to doing just that. If it were pulled _just_ right, the main thread would snap. And yet the shadowed thread told a different story. If _that_ strand were to connect to the main thread, it would share the weight of the web and provide a better balance. But some force ‘Nelle couldn’t identify was keeping them apart.

“Too soon to tell yet if the threads will bind or sever,” Tersa said, as if reading her thoughts.

“If it severs, what happens?”

“The web breaks.”

That sounded ominous. _Worse_ than ominous, actually. ‘Nelle tried to beat back a feeling of dread by making an idle joke. “It’s times like this I wish I were still eight years old and Papa could fix the problem for me.”

“The Mirror has already fought to keep one web from breaking,” Tersa replied solemnly. “This one doesn’t belong to him.”

‘Nelle grabbed the edge of the worktable to steady herself. Mother Night. That was _not_ the answer she expected to get at all. She wasn’t even sure what to make of it. Papa had several names, but ‘Nelle hadn’t heard anyone call him a Mirror before. She wanted to ask why Tersa had used that title, but the look in the witch’s eyes had gone distant. She’d given ‘Nelle all she could for today.

*The Strange One has more questions than answers* Haedyn complained unhappily.

*Maybe, but at least now I have something to watch for*

*Shadows, echoes and mirrors* Taenne grumbled.

*I’ll admit that I don’t know what they mean yet, but I’m sure she’s telling me about them for a reason*

While she’d been talking to the cats, Tersa had left the room. ‘Nelle shrugged and headed back downstairs. Jolinne was in the kitchen, humming to herself as she laid out some dishes. She looked up at them and ‘Nelle felt her assessing Tersa’s frame of mind. A perfectly natural reaction any time visitors came to see her. It wasn’t easy to keep Tersa balanced, and she didn’t envy Jolinne the task.

“I was about to call you for lunch,” the journeymaid said cheerily.

‘Nelle knew the part she was expected to play in this. It would be much easier to get Tersa to eat if she ate, too. “Perfect timing,” she replied. “We just finished, and I’m sure both of us would welcome a meal.”

“Why don’t you both take a seat, and I’ll find something for the Princes while you get started.”

‘Nelle tried not to sigh aloud as she noted the contents of her plate. _Why did it have to be spinach casserole?_

**Author's Note:**

> I have been very interested in the concept of Witch in the canon material, and speculating on what the Blood would have been like when the first Witch appeared, and what she would have been called upon to do. What would happen if she appeared in the early development of Blood society? Saetan gives Titian his theory on the early development of the Blood, and how it came to be that males chose to serve- and why the female line produce Queens that are at the center of their moral and political structures. I am exploring that theory even further, supposing that once the Blood was strong enough to produce Queens and Princes- not yet Warlord Princes- they would run into trouble with understanding what to do with this power they’d been given. What were the rules? And I imagine that their dreams would have made necessary the creation of the first Dream, who would give them the rules to live by: Protocol.


End file.
